The Last Hero
by Skittles001
Summary: Final Chapter up.I can't believe it's over. Panem is at a standstill, as the screens flicker on in each district. They only ever run during the Games. The Games may be over, but the war has begun.Please R&R and let me know what you think of the ending.
1. Wake

**The screens across flickered to life across Panem. Every district was brought to a standstill, and the fighting ceased. **

**Confusion rippled through the crowds, both residents and guards alike, as they gazed up at the static broke across the speakers and feedback flowed through their ever-sensitive ears. Every head cocked up toward the sky, weapons were dropped or shouldered and they awaited the announcement. It was bound to be important.**

**The screens only ever ran during the Games, and The Quarter Quell had ended two months ago. **

**The Games were over, but the war was just beginning.**

*** * ***

**I sat on the coach in the dining room of the airship. We floated past the mountains of District 13, coasting through the blue sky and sailing through wisp-like clouds. **

**I sat, clutching my knees to my chest, with a pillow acting as a buffer between them. My fists were bunched up in the soft silk of the pillow, tearing holes in the fabric with my newly-chewed nails. Grabbing the pillow fiercely, I threw it at the wall, and it fell with a soft thus to the ground. I watched the screen, and snatched another cushion from my seat, stuffed it in my mouth and muffled my screams. **

**And all because of those blue, blue eyes.**

_**Thwack.**_

**Another slap hit Peeta; his head was thrown back from the force of the blow. My chest felt like it would explode, and every blow seemed to leave a mark that no one could see but me.**

"**Say it!" A man appeared, his dark hair hanging in curtains and hiding his face from the camera. His voice was gruff, and every word he uttered caused a flare of fury to well up in my chest. I bit into the pillow, my teeth sinking in and tearing it to pieces. **

**Peeta's face was bruise and broken. The green and yellow patches from old injuries were covered by fresh purple bruises from new ones. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, collecting at his chin and falling in droplets onto the lapel of his black shirt. I stared in wonder at him, bound by ropes to a chair; he looked like an avenging Angel. His blue eyes blazed in rage, and he stared reproachfully at his attacker. **

"**Say it!" the man repeated, pulling a gun from his belt and cocking it. Peeta pursed his lips, and spat a chunk of blood at his attacker. The man recoiled as it dribbled down his cheek. He swept it away with one hand, and pistol whipped Peeta with the other. **

**The camera focused on Peeta. He tried to remain calm, but his eyes welled with tears from the last attack. A cry broke from my mouth, and I didn't even try to stifle it. **

**Haymitch entered the room, breath laboured from running. **

"**Are you okay?" he wheezed, grabbing onto the door frame for support. He drew in long, laboured breaths, his shoulders quaking. **

**I never uttered a word. I just stared in agony at the screen. **

**A tear rolled down Peeta's cheek, and he shook his head to hide it. But the whole of Panem had seen it. The women cried in agony as they watched him, the young girls in floods of tears as their hero was reduced to a bettered mess. The men watched stoically, watching him receive blow by blow, refusing to say a word. An air of admiration hung in the air for the lost hero, held captive by the Capitol. **

"**Please," Peeta mumbled, his speech slurred by the pain and swelling in his cheek. **

"**Do it, now." the man said. **

**Peeta's eyes hit the floor, and his long, long eyelashes were dotted with tears. When he looked up again, his face was filled with again, and every heart in Panem broke when he muttered one word in a reverent tone, like a prayer: "Katniss."**

**Haymitch stood behind me, hovering. I had finally stopped sobbing, through sheer force of will. Crying wouldn't solve anything. It made me vulnerable. It made me weak. And I refuse to be weak.**

**I stared at those eyes; the ones that had haunted my dreams and my days since I had woken after the Quell. But I am not awake; I'm just going through the motions. I am sleepwalking through my days, and no one seems to notice.**

**And I don't know whether it's from guilt, or from something else.**

**It must be guilt. What else could it be? I left him alone, and the Capitol captured him. Every mark on his skin is because of my incompetence. I feel responsible because I **_**am **_**responsible.**

**Haymitch laid a gnarled, withered hand on my shoulder, and I immediately tensed under the touch, like I had been electrocuted. My gaze flickered to his hand, then to his face, focusing on the scars I had left months ago. Haymitch wilted under my gaze, and I shrugged his hand away. **

**I refused to acknowledge him. I concentrated on Peeta. **

**Peeta swallowed and his eyes closed as he struggled to say the words his captors desperately wanted him to say. **

"**Kat-" he choked. "Katniss Everdeen is dead."**

**I stared at the screen, and the turned to Haymitch, who had a fiercer than usual expression in his face. **

"**What?" My voice was a monotone, emotionless. **

"**Watch his face."**

_**What else can I do? **_**I thought, but watched him even more intently. I watched Peeta's eyes drift infinitesimally back and forth, following a pattern as he spoke. **

"**Katniss was captured, and decided to end her own life than see reason. I have been left to tell you the news….."**

"**He's reading a script." I said. Haymitch nodded.**

"**And?!" the man on screen spoke. **

"**And," Peeta sighed, more blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. "She took the life of our unborn child, which I can not forgive. Katniss is not to be admired…."**

**Peeta fell silent, staring intently at the camera. I could see the torrent of emotion in his eyes. His emotions conflicted with one another. The corner of his lips curled up, and a smile played in his eyes. **

"**Katniss is alive." Peeta said. I sucked in my breath, as the man repeatedly beat him. But Peeta took each blow without flinching. **

"**Katniss is alive," he repeated, his voice growing louder and firmer. Peeta relaxed against the bonds of his chair. I didn't like it. Something was wrong. He was………**

**And it struck me.**

"**No!" I screamed, leaping off the coach and falling to my knees in front of the television screen. **

**He was giving up. He was giving up for me. **

"**God," Haymitch groaned, flinching at every blow Peeta received. **

"**Fight the Capitol. Don't let Katniss down, and don't let me die in vain."**

**The man with the dark hair cocked the gun and held it toward Peeta's head. Peeta heaved one heavy sigh and closed his eyes, his face relaxed. He knew the end was coming. The whole of Panem drew in a collective breath, and silence shook it's very foundations. **

**Peeta opened his eyes. They were filled with love and happiness. **

"**Katniss, I love you."**

**The screen went blank. Static took over. And the whole of Panem shook as the sound reverberated through them from the static filled speakers.**

_**Bang.**_

_**And I finally woke.**_


	2. Static

"Where do you think you're going?"

Haymitch followed me down the hall, ad the longer he followed me the angrier I got. I knocked on every single door we passed, pounding on it until my knuckles turned raw. Grumbles issued from inside some, confusion from others as hinges creaked and people followed.

I came to a crossroads in the hall, and veered left. My pace was determined, and I sprinted to the large mahogany door at the end of the corridor.

Finnick's voice spoke from behind me. "What happened to her? Did you spike her drink, Haymitch?"

"Now is not the time, Odair, so cram it!"

I threw open the door, and yelled "Gale!"

Gale was standing in the centre of his room, his arms around Madge. She was sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder. He brushed the hair away from her face and hushed her, in a tone I recognised from our hunting days. It seems like forever ago since I last heard him speak so softly. He glanced up when he heard his name.

"Katnip?" he was stunned. His back tensed, and he immediately released Madge. Her blue eyes were filled with tears, and she pushed herself away from him gracefully, before she fell on to the leather coach in the corner of the room. She hung her head and, through choking tears, said "Hey Katniss."

Gale balked. "Madge was upset over the broadcast, and she needed someone to…."

"I don't care." I said firmly, and he physically flinched. It's not that I didn't care; a small part of me tied itself in a knot on spotting the two of them together. But I had bigger fish to fry.

I glanced around. Finnick, Haymitch, my mother, Prim, and Hazel all stared back at me in wonder. As it turns out, they had noticed my little disappearing act, and waited for what I had to say expectantly, if not warily.

"Gale, did you record it?"

"What?" Confused, he ran a hand through his hair, tousling it, and rubbed his eyes sleepily. Absentmindedly, he scratched the whipping scar on his shoulder, which he always did when he was tense.

"The broadcast," I said urgently, "did you record it?"

"Yeah," he said automatically. "I thought we might need it. But I'll delete it. It must be hard for…"

"I want to watch it again."

The whole room went silent. I stared at Gale expectantly, but he grew hard-faced and sober.

"You want to what?"

"Watch it again." I said, a little breathlessly.

"Katniss, honey, I don't think that's a good idea." My mother rung her hands together, her eyes wide with concern. Prim clutched mom's dress in her hands, not daring to look me in the eye. She thought I was crazy.

She was right.

"Katniss," Finnick, ever the voice of reason, stepped forward and grabbed my hands. "I know you're upset right now. We all are. But you have to…."

"I have to watch it again." I said firmly. My mother looked to Haymitch, who leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold before him.

"Let her."

"What?" Hazel looked at him fiercely, but he shrugged.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" my mom said.

"Look, this is the most animated she's been in months. And we've got a war on our hands. If watching that video will get her out of this funk, then let her do it."

Finnick pulled on his bronze hair, "Haymitch, I don't think letting her watch Peeta die again will help us. You know how she is…"

"She's right here." I cut in, putting as much authority into my voice as I could. "And just let me do this."

"Why do you _want _to do this, Katnip?" Gale tried to draw it out of me, like only he could. But for some reason, I found it irritating, and ignored him.

"Just get the tape." I said a little more forcefully, my resolve beginning to crack.

"Not until you tell me." he was about to snap, his eyes narrowing to slits; like a cobra ready to attack.

The response he got came from an unexpected place: Madge.

"Isn't it obvious?" she laughed humourlessly, standing up and smoothing out the skirt of her dress. She strolled over and laid an arm on my shoulder, before giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm in Katniss. Whatever you need."

I was suddenly so grateful, I could have hugged her. I restrained myself, but the edges of my lip curled into a smile.

"Thanks Madge."

"No problem. I want him back, too. See you later, Gale."

Gale's eyes flickered to her as she left. His mouth opened to say something, but he shut it with a snap. His jaw tensed, he said "can someone tell me what the f--"

"Gale!" Hazel warned.

"--Hell is going on?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Gladly," I snapped. "Just get the freaking tape."

He left the room in a huff, and the tension was chocking me. It crushed my chest, like a boulder had fell on it and every bone was breaking.

"Is it for closure?" Finnick asked, breaking the silence. "I know you cared about him…"

"Who didn't? Everyone loved Peeta."

"But not everyone was _in_…"

"I've got it." Gale called, rounding the corner, his hand holding the tape in the air.

"Great."

We watched, and I forced myself to relive every moment of his torture. I heard Prim's strangled screams from the distance, but my focus was on the screen.

The bang rang again.

And my face lit up in a smile.

"I knew it." I jumped up, and raced out of the room.

My room was bare, apart from a bed and a light. Every night I watched the lamp brighten up my wall. I tried to stay awake, but I always failed, and then the nightmares consumed me, and I woke in a cold sweat and visions of blue clouded my vision.

My bag hung on the door. I stuffed my clothes, and anything I needed in there. I grabbed the pearl Peeta had given it and kissed it quickly, before stuffing it in my trouser pocket. My lucky charm.

"Katniss!" Finnick threw open the door. "What are you doing?"

"I'm packing." I said, grabbing the lamp off my bedside table. I held it above my head, and quick as a whip, brought it crashing down onto the table. Shards of glass soared through the air, stabbing into the skin of my cheek and slicing my knuckles open. The sting lasted only a second, and was replaced with the cool sensation of blood, dripping heedlessly over me.

"Oh my--" Finnick clawed his hands away from his face and stared in anger. "Have you gone crazy?"

"Definitely."

"What's going on? I heard a noise?" Mom screamed in horror when she saw my blood dappled face. I crouched on the floor and picked up salvageable shards, popping them into my bag with a plop.

"Katniss, you're bleeding."

"I know." I pulled the wire from the lamp, tore it open and helped myself to the copper links inside. That was all right for now. I just had to find some arrows, a bow and some knives and I would be set.

"Katniss!" My mother grabbed me firmly, her fingers cutting crescent moons into my arms. "Tell me what you think your doing, now."

"I'm going to the Capitol."

She blinked. "Why?"

"I'm going to get Peeta back."

Finnick and my mother shared a tense look. "Honey, Peeta's…"

"Don't you get it?" I said, losing my patience. "That's what I was trying to show you."

"What was?

"Peeta isn't dead. And I'm going to find him."


	3. Alive

I just left the room. Their silence only spurred me on. I walked to the weapons room, and found Madge packing a bag of knives, a bow, and retrieving a quiver of arrows from the far wall. The room was sterile and clinical. The shiny metal glimmered in the sunlight that spilled through the ships windows.

"Hey Madge," I said, throwing my bag down on the ground. She offered me a simpering smile, but said nothing. Her face was stained and streaked with tears.

Finnick pounded down the door to the weapons room, his face livid.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I thought we already covered this." I sighed, before grabbing the bag from Madge's outstretched arms and kicking my other one into the air and catching it. I brushed past Finnick's shoulders, and he grabbed me roughly by my shoulder and thrust me into the wall.

Madge gasped, and tried to pull him off me, but he just ignored her and stared fiercely into my eyes.

"This is crazy." he said, hanging his head and shaking it from side to side. I freed one of my hands and shoved him roughly, breaking free of his restraint.

"Don't you think I know that?" I shouldered him out of the way and proceeded down the hall.

Finnick and Madge followed in hot pursuit, and Gale and Haymitch joined the chain gang, shadowing us.

"If you think it's crazy, and _we_ think it's crazy…."

"It's crazy." I muttered.

"Then why the hell are you doing it?" Finnick groaned.

"Leave her alone, Finnick," Madge said, her voice stronger and more determined than I had ever heard it. I glanced over my shoulder, and her expression was hard-faced. My lips curled into a cocky smile at her, and she caught my eye and her expression softened. Then I caught Gale's eyes, and realised he was watching her, shock clouding his dark eyes.

I shook that gnawing feeling away and continued on my path to the kitchen, thrusting the doors open with a bang. It was huge, wood-panelled and bright; its walls consisted of windows, giving panoramic views of District 13's valleys.

I squatted and raided, and they all watched me, but Madge, who rifled through cupboards.

Finnick's resolve broke seconds before Gale's and they both ended up screaming: "What's happening?"

Madge broke before I did. Something had snapped in her. I think I liked it. "Haven't you been paying attention? It's Peeta."

"What about Peeta?" Gale growled.

Madge met his eyes, and they were full of sadness. No matter what expression she wore, you could always tell how she felt through her eyes. They truly were the windows to her soul.

Gale's expression remained passive and indifferent. I knew it well. It was his best poker-face.

"Peeta's alive." she said simply, turning back to the cupboard and rummaging for canned goods and beef jerky, and coming up trumps.

"That's… impossible." Gale's sentiment was mirrored in everyone else's face. I met Haymitch's eyes, daring him to betray me again. I would never forgive him for choosing me over Peeta. I was responsible, but so was he. I bit the inside of my cheek and tore at the lining to stop myself from screaming a string of profanity at him. He saw the war that was raging in my mind, even though I was careful to keep my expression calm and poised.

"It's possible." he grunted, and I nodded infinitesimally. He hadn't redeemed himself, but I hated him just slightly less/

"No, it's not." Finnick yelled. "And letting them even think of going on this suicide mission for nothing is ridiculous."

"Finnick," I said, my voice cracking from emotion, and I hated myself for it. "What if it was Annie?"

He blanched, and he grew deathly pale at my words. I had stooped low, and I knew it, but I had hit my mark.

"What?" he said, growing whiter.

"If it were Annie," I pressed on. "And you saw her being tortured…."

"Stop it." he said weakly.

"And you saw her give up and accept death…. "

"I said stop it…" he growled, his fists bunching together in fury.

"And there was one tiny trickle of doubt, one small glimmer of hope that she might still be alive…"

"Please…" he begged, tears welling up in his sea green eyes.

"Are you saying that you wouldn't try anything to save her?" My words were quiet, but that made them more powerful. His steely gaze fell, and he nodded, unable to speak from the wave of emotions crushing him.

"That's what I thought."

Haymitch stepped forward, and glanced around the room. "So, how do you know?"

"The gunshot." Madge answered for me, for which I was grateful. I couldn't them the real reason; that I felt that he was alive. And only that hunch, and the gunshot, was keeping my hope alive.

Madge continued. "The screen went black before the gunshot rang. Don't you think they would show it if it had happened? Wouldn't they want to reinforce the idea that no one can defy the Capitol by showing one of the rebels being executed?"

Haymitch narrowed his eyes at her. "That's an idea."

"I know it's only small," she said, her gaze hitting the floor. "But it's something."

"And we know they can generate sounds, like Prim and Gale's voice during the Quell," she continued, fevered with enthusiasm. "And this may be our only chance to save him, before they think he's…..dispensable."

"So, you think that a few shards of glass, some wire and some weapons in the hands of two teenage girls are going to make the Capitol quake in their boots?" Haymitch grunted, and gale barked a laugh. I shot him a heart-stopping glare, but Madge's eyes caught mine, and we realised we hadn't thought the whole thing through.

"Well," Finnick broke in. "They'll need help."

I could have kissed him, but I wouldn't. He's not exactly my type. But I gave him as warm a smile as I could manage under present circumstances.

"Finnick," Gale scoffed. "I don't think that's a great idea."

"Weren't you the one who wanted to start a revolution?" I reminded him. "Here's your chance. What are you, a coward?"

His voice was low and deadly. "Don't call me a coward."

"Stop it!" Madge yelled. "Fighting won't help anything. Haymitch is right, we need a plan."

"I didn't actually say that," Haymitch said, "But she's right."

"So what should we do?" I snapped, frustrated.

"I think we should land this ship and gather reinforcements."

"I thought District 13 had no one."

"That's where you're wrong." he said, meeting my eyes, his expression remorseful. He was hiding something from me.

"What aren't you telling me, Haymitch?" I hissed/

"There are people there, Katniss. One of them happens to be your father."

I felt my world shatter for the second time today. And, this time, it rendered me unconscious.


	4. Crack

I heard this strange fluttering by my ears; like an insect buzzing and flapping its wings in an effort to escape. I wanted to swat it away, but my arms felt heavier than lead; just like my eyelids. With a struggle, I finally managed to open my eyes a crack, light spilling through my eyelashes. I felt like I was staring through a canopy of leaves and braches from high in the treetops of the stadium.

A shudder pulsed through my spine, and my body leaped up, causing someone to gasp from close to my right. I stumbled off the bed I had been placed on and scrambled into a standing position.

The fluttering was courtesy of Prim, who was flipping my notebook of edible plants to fan my face while I was unconscious. She grabbed me firmly by the arm and pulled me firmly back to the make-shift bed, which consisted of a bag stuffed with clothes, a bunch of cushions and a blanket to spare my back from the harsh feeling of cold steel against the skin of my back.

I smiled at Prim weakly, as dizziness overtook my brain and I felt light-headed.

"Sit!" she said sternly, and I would have laughed, if not for all the worried faces surrounding me. Madge gnawed at her thumb nail, biting it down to the base, and Gale stood beside her, his mind a thousand miles away. Haymitch stood beside them with a bottle of white liquor in his hands; although how he found it I have no idea. Finnick leaned over to him and whispered "Did she hit her head?"

"Hopefully," Haymitch grunted. "It might knock some sense into her."

I scowled at him, and he said "She's alive!"

"Of course I am!" Prim fussed with my hair, and tried to pull it back from my eyes so that she could check for a concussion. I allowed her this, before I leaped up and raced out of the room. I realised where he had found the liquor.

"Here we go again," Finnick sighed.

"We've stopped moving," I said intelligently.

"Yup," Haymitch said gruffly.

"We're in 13?"

"Yup." he said again.

I plundered down the hall, searching for an escape route. Finally I came to a halt when I was met by a huge metal door. I looked for a handle, and cried in frustration when I couldn't find it. Thuds echoed through the walls as a myriad of footsteps began to follow me.

That was when I gave up. The fighting became to exhausting. I had to focus my energy on fighting the enemy, not my friends --although, admittedly, I was finding it very hard to differentiate between the two at the moment.

Suddenly, the door sprang open with a _whoosh_ and I held onto a steel bar that was welded to the wall to keep my balance. My feet came from under me, and I slipped, but I righted myself and hoped that no one saw.

I looked around, and saw my mother leaning against the wall with her hand on a large red button.

_Why didn't I think of that?_ I thought ruefully. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked drained, but I saw something that I hadn't seen in her for a long time-- Hope.

"I think it's time for us to set foot on land." she smiled a watery smile, and I felt something crack in my chest. I wanted to run forward and hug her, have her stoke my hair, and tell me everything would be okay. I wanted my mother. But I restrained myself. Our relationship was on the mend, but there were still plenty of cracks that could make the whole thing implode.

It takes a lot for me to forgive someone. Sometimes I never can. Once you are lost in my good favour, you are lost forever. And everyone seemed to be treading that line.

The only one who hadn't was Peeta, and waiting around for a miracle would not help him. We needed action. And I was the only one willing to do anything.

And now I had another complication to add to the list of things that were setting me back.

"Thanks, Mom." I said simply, before high-tailing it out the ship's cargo door.

From what I could tell, it was a landing strip for aircrafts. There were a few trees scattered here and there, but we were firmly planted in a barren wasteland in the district 13. I craned my head upward and squinted. The sun was burning my eyes, making them water, and my skin prickled under the intense heat. The sky was cloudless and blue. Like someone had painted it and erased any mistakes.

Peeta would have loved it.

I heard a cough and looked around. Then I saw them. A row of people were standing about 20 feet to my left, dressed in black, brown and green --camouflage colours. They shouldered a few guns, but seeing my expression, they swiftly threw them on the ground.

That's when I saw him.

He pushed his way forward, edging a stock-man out of his way and taking a few strides before stopping completely. He watched me in wonder, and scratched his head, ruffling his short, black hair, that seemed to be greying at the edges. A curious smile lifted the corners of his mouth and lit up his eyes. He was the same, yet completely different.

My father. The supposedly dead one.

I felt a hand grip my shoulder, but I didn't move to see who it was. I broke from their grip ad ran forward, my legs pounding the pavement beneath my feet. Dad opened up his arms to give me a hug, his smile soft and warm.

And that's when I punched him in the face.

I heard the crunch of his nose beneath my fist, and the satisfying spurt of blood that gushed down his chin. My knuckles were red, sore and swollen, but it didn't deter me. Dad stumbled backwards and fell into the arms of his comrades, who stared in shock. One of them grabbed for his gun, but I quickly pinned his shoulder with a knife that I had stashed in the waist of my jeans.

Dad finally stopped the flow of blood, shook it from his hands and shakily stood up.

"Guess I should have expected that." he grunted, spitting a wad of blood onto the ground.

"Great to see you, Dad." I shouldered him out of the way and turned back toward the ship. I didn't meet the eyes of my family or friends; I just kept walking.

I just replayed the cracking sound over and over, and watched Dad's eyes fill with tears. _Good_, I thought,_ now he knows how it feels to be hurt by someone you love. _


	5. Heartbreak

Knock, knock.

That's all I heard for about an hour. I had barricaded myself into the supply closet; a wall off wobbly crates all that kept me from reality.

I just slumped down on the ground, my back against the wall, and took deep breaths to control my anger.

Now it was just me against the world.

I guess I always felt like that.

_Knock._

"Leave me alone." I said quietly, grating my fingernails against the cement floor beneath me as I bundled my hands into tight fists.

"Katniss?" My mother called; her voice weary and tear-filled. I didn't have time to deal with her or anyone else. I didn't even have time to deal with myself. Why had everyone forgotten about Peeta? Could we really just leave him to die?

If he wasn't……

_No, _I reminded myself firmly. _He's alive. I just know it._

And the only way to find him is to get out of my little safe haven. Try not to kill my father, and get to work.

You know, Life is such a pain.

Still, better alive than dead.

_Knock,_

The thudding rumbled in my ears, like distant thunder clouds, or the footsteps of gods mocking us from above as they watched us suffer below.

Of course, the Capitol deemed themselves to be in Heaven, while the districts all lived in our own personal Hell.

_Knock._

It was two much, and I leaped up. With one swift, and an aggravated brushing movement, I knocked all the boxes to the side of the room. They crashed and banged and broke into tiny pieces.

I couldn't help but think of doing that to every bone in my father's body.

_Knock._

I wrenched the door open, expecting to see my teary-eyed, soft-hearted mother. And I did.

But she was behind my dad. And she was holding his hand.

"Get out of my way." my voice was more venomous than the snakes that lurked in the dense bushes in the forests of District 12.

Correction: What used to be District 12, and was now a barren wasteland.

Nausea roiled through the pit of my empty stomach, but I just buried it down and converted it to anger, as I elbowed my father out the way, hoping to dislocate his shoulder. No such luck.

"Katniss," he said, rubbing the sore spot in his shoulder while following me down the hallway, while sharing a worried look with my mother. At that moment, I didn't know who I hated more: My father for abandoning us and leaving us for dead; or my mother for forgiving him.

"What?" I said gruffly, arriving swiftly into the Galley and scurrying around, searching for my bag.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, and this only made my blood an inferno in my veins. I took a deep breath and thought about calming things, anything to take my mind off my own heart-ache.

And I automatically thought of Peeta.

I shook my head to banish the image of his blue eyes from my mind, but they just appeared and consumed my vision. Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit my cheek to distract from the pain and focus on a new one. I spat a hunk of blood onto the floor, and glared vehemently at my father.

"You want to talk?" I laughed humourlessly. "Okay, let's talk. How about the fact that you left us? That you just packed up and left without notice and let us think you were dead. What about leaving us to fend for ourselves, destroying Mom in the process? Or better yet, about how you could leave us for dead? Any of those good for you?"

"Katniss," he began, but I cut him off immediately.

"Don't you dare," I hissed, mixing as much hatred into my words as possible, "say you're sorry."

"But I…"

"Don't." I warned, and brushed past him on my way to the door.

He whipped around and called my name. My spine straightened, and an impulse shot though me. Slowly, I wheeled around and faced him.

"You may hate me," he said, "But no matter what happens, I'm still your father."

"Well, that's where you're wrong," I said. A stray tear rolled down my cheek, and I just wiped it away, "because my father died a long time ago."


	6. Silence

_A/N: I'm sorry updates have taken so long. I had pretty monumental exams for the last few weeks, so I couldn't write. I'm a little rusty, so I know this chapter isn't very good, and the next will be Madge -centric, since she is really intriguing me. It will be from Madge's perspective, in 3__rd__ person, but this is solely our feisty little Katniss. It is also a filler. Apologies. Writers block sucks. Hope you like it, and R&R, because it honestly does help. xXx_

The following week of non-stop silence reminded me oddly of cat vomit.

I remember when I lived in the Seam, I had woken up to a little surprise courtesy of Prim's mange-ridden cat, Buttercup, who had hacked up the previous night's meagre meal. I remember the feel of the slimy, pungent substance as it seeped through my toes and slipped over my skin. I recoiled at its touch, and aimed a well place kick at the perpetrator. Buttercup had cocked one of his torn ears at me and sneezed, as though brushing me off. I cursed silently and had run off for another days hunting, retching at the stench.

I remember the smell- that pungent, stagnant smell- and how it had lingered uncomfortably in my room for days.

Silence was as pungent and resonant and utterly sickening as Buttercup's throw-up.

. That was the week before the Reaping, the week my life had changed forever. It felt strange to think that all that had happened less than a year ago, but it felt like a lifetime had come and gone since then. I suppose that was because I had had to live a lifetime since then.

Silence sucked.

No one spoke to me, and I returned the favour. They thought I was crazy, and of they gave me space I would eventually come to my senses and see reason.

They were sorely mistaken.

Of course, the people who would have spoken to me otherwise had a lot on their minds.

I had avoided my parents, if you could call them that, like the plague. If they entered a room I was in, it was like a force field of my hate drove them at least 20 feet away.

My father hadn't attempted to talk to me all week, and I was thankful. I couldn't trust myself to be around him, especially with sharp objects in the vicinity. My dreams were consumed with the many ways I wanted to hurt him for how he had hurt me.

Amongst other things.

The plan to rescue Peeta was going slowly, but it was going. My dad and Haymitch set up clandestine meetings behind closed doors, and I would eavesdrop. They decided that even if I was wrong- which I wasn't- it could be the perfect opportunity to infiltrate the Capitol, end the rising and overthrow the rulers. Only one thing sprang to my mind: It's our only chance to save Peeta.

Since everyone was "giving me space", I had been able to pocket knick knacks from around the airship and the District 13 clubhouse. I would secretly snatch a pen knife here, a quiver there, and other things that could make the rebellion just a little bit easier.

Although, it was far from easy.

We had to get our ship, undetected, across the country to infiltrate the capitol. That was the easy part. The hard part was getting into the Guards Headquarters, and getting to President Snow. I still had nightmares of his blood-tainted breath creeping toward me, a blanket of red fog emanating from his breath. I would wake up startled and my chest felt like a few dozen tonnes of bricks was jumping on a trampoline within it.

Still, nothing came close to the nightmarish hell that was the Peeta dreams. I would scream and cry and try to get to him, his voice calling my name like when we were in the Quell, desperately hoping to lace my fingers within his and push him to safety. And then I would find him, alone and unguarded. I would run to him, my heart soaring, until I ran into the barrier, and watch his face as he was surrounded. Each night, in my dreams, I watched Peeta die.

I couldn't let it happen in reality too.

I wouldn't.

Of course, no one knew of my late night expeditions to the District 13 barracks, or my ability to conceal myself nimbly between the air vents during one of Haymitch and my father's discussions.

Or if they knew, they didn't care.

So my days and ways for the past week had been paved in silence. Not that I cared, I'd rather that than have to deal with the constant reminders that Peeta was dead.

Because he wasn't.

But still, the silence was beginning to grow putrid,

Of course, anyone who would have spoken to me otherwise had lots on their minds, so I didn't hold it against them.

I had just found out my father was still alive.

Gale had just found out his was still dead.

I knew it must be hard for him. He's spent the last week in a daze, and was more silent than ever. Gale was the most stealth person I knew. It was like his foot didn't even hit the ground, as if he could levitate. Of course, levitation would be a particularly neat trick when hunting, but he was just skilled. When he had found out my father had survived the mine blast, he has thought that his had gotten away too. Gale had hoped desperately that his father was alive, that the burden of running a household on his shoulders might be over.

He was wrong. After he had recovered from my all powerful punch, Gale and my dad had spoken, according to Prim, who was in a state of shock over the revelations. She wasn't as angry as I was. That wasn't in her nature, and I envied her for that indifference.

My dad had told Gale that he was sorry, but he hadn't seen Constantine Hawthorn leave the mines, and he wasn't in District 13.

Gale had walked to his bedroom, slammed the door and hadn't left since.

I had knocked on his door once or twice, and had only received a grunt or a string of profanities, but never a proper response. It was Gale's time to grieve, yet again.

It hurt that my Dad had lied and let us believe he's died.

It was worse that Gale found out his was dead after all.

I gave Gale his space, and sought out Prim, but that came to a dead end, since she was spending all her time with my parents. Bottling my anger away to be used at a more constructive time, I looked for Madge, and found that she, too, wasn't in the mood to talk.

Madge was never one of the most vocal people I had ever known, but even she had become noticeably silent. She stayed in her room, reading books and watching the clouds pass the mountains of the District 13 horizon, lost in her own world. I envied her that. She could lose herself in a moment, and stay there forever.

However, I knew Madge was not carefree. I would find her in a daze, her cheeks tear-stained and fresh waterfalls flowing freely from her eyes, reminiscing.

Her parents, like many of the residents of District 12, hadn't survived.

And she thought it was all her fault.


	7. Fire

**2 months ago:**_**Madge.**_

_The sirens blared in my ears, ripples of pain and confusing running though me. I whipped my head around, looking for someone, anyone who could tell me what was going on. _

_That was when the first bomb dropped. _

_I was thrown off my feet, soaring through the air and landing painfully against the apothecary wall. I winced, every breath gone from my body in a moment. Coughing didn't seem to help. The air was polluted with dust and particles, singing my nostrils, and coating my skin with grey smudges. _

_Then the next one fell. _

_I clung to the lamp post, using it as leverage, but it teetered under the force of the explosion. I pushed myself away from it, running as fast as I could before the thing came crashing down. An almighty crash came from behind me and I wheeled around. The lamp post had landed half a foot from where I had stopped. If I had gone any slower, or left a second later, I'd be dead. _

_The sky was flaming orange, swirling with tendrils of smoke and embers and the sounds of screaming mothers searching for their children. _

_My mother was alone in the house. _

_Without a seconds hesitation I forced my way through the gathering crowd, who pushed and shoved in the opposite way, trying to break away from the fire bombs and the hysteria. _

_I was running towards it. I had to. My mother needed me. _

_My lungs grew heavy, like lead from the dense smoke emanating from the forest and the buildings that came crumbling down. District 12, my home, was crashing down around my ears. I couldn't think about it, I had to get to my mother, I had to get home. _

_An arm caught me and yanked me back forcibly, almost tearing it out of its socket. I snatched my arm away and gave him a reproachful look. His grey eyes stared down at me in horror and anger. _

"_What are you doing?" Gale yelled, his voice carrying over the cacophony of disaster around us. "We have to leave!"_

"_My mother's at home, I can't leave her. And my dad…." The thought that I might never see my family again was soul-crushing. "I have to find them."_

"_There's no time," Gale screamed, pulling me after him towards the running crowd. His mother and siblings were waiting at the edge of the forest for him, calling his name. He hesitated, looked toward me and back to them, and pulled me even harder, in the direction of the clearing. _

_I struggled against his grip, and thought of the only thing I could to get my out of this. I wrenched my hand away and jabbed my foot into the crook of his knee. He fell, and I had just enough time to get away, and he could run to his family, since he wasn't injured. It was a win-win. _

_I heard him yell my name, but I kept going, not daring to look back. He had to understand. If it was his family, he would do the same thing. I rounded the corner of the street and was paralysed with horror. _

_My home was consumed with white-hot flames. _

_And my father was standing outside. _

_I ran as fast as I could, hopping over the steel gate and careful not to touch it. The heat radiated off it, and my skin prickled with the waves coming from my home. _

_Fire, fire everywhere. They started at the base of the garden, and slowly swelled, tributaries of flames crawling up the windows, reaching for the upstairs bedrooms. _

_Where my mother was. _

"_Dad," I screamed, my breathing pained and laboured from the heavy smog. "Is mom in there?"_

_Dad could barely hear me through the sirens and the shock. "What?"_

"_Mom," I said again, my voice growing louder and angrier. "Is she with you?"_

"_No," He said slowly, "I thought you had her."_

_We stared at each other for a moment, and then a heartbroken sob broke from my father's mouth. "Maryse," he cried, tears welling in his eyes, and flowing over the scorch marks. _

"_We have to do something," I said quietly, contemplating what could possibly happen, worst case scenario. I didn't like it very much, and it hurt to think about. _

"_I'm going to the town hall," My dad said, his formality and mayor like attitude now in play. I didn't need a mayor, I needed my parents. _

"_Why?" I asked, dumbfounded. _

"_They have pales, we may be able to stop the burning. "_

_Just then another bomb landed, and the ground beneath us shook violently. Dad's eyes were frantic, and he looked down at me, love and fear in his eyes. "This is my district, I have to protect it."_

"_What?" _

"_Madge, There is an airship coming; be on it. Do this one thing for me, this one last thing."_

_I finally understood his meaning, and a scream broke from me involuntarily. "Daddy," I said, my eyes filled with tears, saying the words I hadn't spoken since I was five years old and had fallen off my bike. "Daddy, I need you."_

_Dad placed a hand softly against my cheek. We were both marked with scrapes and burns, and the slightest touch caused me to ache, but it was worth it, just for that one last moment with my father. _

"_Madge, I love you. I always will. Even when I'm not around, okay."_

"_Daddy, please, don't leave me." salty tears burned my skin, but I couldn't help it. _

"_This is my district," he said again, sadness in his eyes. "I will be with it when it goes down."_

"_Please," My voice broke from emotion, and the words were caught like a heavy lump in my throat. _

"_Be on that ship, Madge. Promise me."_

_I stayed utterly still, trying to fight the feeling of weakness and nausea overcoming me. Dad grabbed me roughly by the shoulders and knocked me out of my reverie. _

"_Promise me!" He said fiercely, searching my face for a memory to hold onto, sinking every line and crevice into his mind. _

"_I promise," I said weakly. He kissed me swiftly on the forehead and raced toward the town hall, to try and prevent more damage from being done. _

_Once he was just a distant memory and disappeared from my line of sight, I realised my mother must still be inside. My father was going off to die, I wouldn't lose her too. _

_I ripped the hem off my dress on a stone on the way to my house. I tore the heavily singed and smoking fabric quickly, leaving black soot marks all over my hands. I raced to the nearest fountain, which was ten feet away, and wished it was closer. I nearly cried from happiness when I saw it had water. I dipped the sodden fabric in and raced toward the house. _

_The door was almost burned through, and the heat was unbearable. After three failed attempts to ram it open with my shoulders, I cried out in pain. I thought of my mother, sleeping helplessly while smoke surrounded her, entering her airways and chocking her silently, and with one final push, the door flew open. _

_The foyer was like a fiery hell. Flames wrapped themselves like ribbons around the banister of the stairs, and boards creaked and cracked and came tumbling down around my ears. The smoke was stifling, and the heat even more so, and I fought my way upstairs, ignoring the unbearable pain and pricing across my legs and arms and every other part of me. _

_I tried to call "Mom", but the smoke strangled my words, and choked me. I pushed past the inferno on the dressing tables, and the heat spreading across the walls, ceiling and doors. I was trapped, and I had to get my mother at all costs. _

_I found her bedroom door, and jerked my hand away as soon as I touched the scorching hot brass door knob. Wrapping my fist in the remains of the pale blue skirt of my dress, I pull the door open. _

_And was thrown back from the explosion. _

_I writhed on the floor, my clothes on fire. I rolled around to stop the flames, and held the wet fabric over my mouth again, allowing me to breathe. Well, attempt to breathe._

_My mother was where I had left her this morning; sleeping silently on her bed, one arm hanging off the edge, a box of Morphling tucked underneath her. _

_She looked so peaceful, I thought it could have just been any other day, and she wouldn't want to be disturbed. _

_The flames marred the peaceful effect. _

_I leaped to the bedside and shook my mother, shielding her from the falling debris and getting the brunt of its weight as it sliced though my back. _

"_Mom," I screamed, shaking her on the bed, and clutching her close as another ceiling tile came lose from the wall. "Mom, wake up."_

_She groaned in response, and my heart leaped; she was alive. I shook her again and again, but she never became more reactive than before. I frowned and tried to think of a way downstairs. Coughing, I leaned over on the bed and placed my mothers limp arms across my shoulders and guided her downstairs. She must have taken an extra string dose, because I couldn't rouse her awake. We got to the stairs, and crawled down them slowly, only flames and smoke visible, and no steps could be seen. When we reached the final step, the stairs gave way, and I stumbled under my mother's weight. A huge chasm appeared in the ground and continued to grow and grow, as though eating the floor. _

_I could feel myself slipping backwards, and tears streamed down my face. I was going to die. And so was my mother. And it was all my fault. _

_I should have been stronger, I should have gotten there quicker. I shouldn't have left her alone. I went to the square to get her some more medicine for when she woke up, like she had asked before she slipped into a semi-catatonic state. _

_If I hadn't left her, maybe we would have both survived. I could see the flames crawling across the ceiling, and felt myself and my mother fall backwards into the gaping hole. I closed my eyes, and waited for inevitable thud. _

_I stopped falling, and looked around. I was hunched on the ground at the edge of the hole and my mother was gone. I called her name, but couldn't hear her response. That's when it hit me: She had woken up. She saw that she was pulling me over, and had let me go. I cried, floorboards cracking beneath me, but I didn't care. I just sat there, among the flames and cried. I had lost everything today; everything! Why shouldn't I be allowed to mourn? _

_The front door smashed open again, and I craned my head around to see who it was. Gale stood there, frantically searching for something. His eyes fell on me, and relief washed over him; he's been searching for me. _

"_Madge, we have to go!" he said, coughing on the smog exiting the doorway. Outside, the sun shone, and Gale was illuminated with a halo of white. My saviour. _

_But I didn't want to be saved. _

"_You have to help me," I said, running towards him and pulling on his white t-shirt, dragging him inside. He stumbled, but quickly regained his footing. _

"_This house is going to collapse, Madge. We have to get out of here."_

"_Not without her!" I said, pushing my way to the basement stairs. She had to be down here. Maybe she had survived; maybe I could save her after all. "Mt mothers down there. I can't lose her, too."_

_Gale followed me, and grabbed my arm, more gently than before, and pulled me into his chest. "Madge," he said softly, "I get it. I really do. If it was me, I'd do the same thing. But she wouldn't want you to give up. She wouldn't want you to die trying to save her. She would want you to live. This isn't your fault; it's the Capitols. And trust me, we'll get them for this," Gale's grey eyes blazed like the tendrils of heat surrounding us, and I was momentarily stunned. He was right. She wouldn't want to lose me, like I had lost her. And only one thing stopped me from chasing down those stairs. _

_I'd made a promise to my father. _

_I promised him I would get on that ship. _

_Tears leaked down my cheeks, and I nodded my consent. "Let's go." _

_Gale and I raced out of the house, and I turned my head as I ran and watched the house, the only place I had ever called home, crumble to the ground, the remains of my mother trapped inside. I stopped and watched in horror, but Gale caught me and threw me over his shoulders. I beat against his back, willing him to let me down, but he said we had to go. Once he was sure that I actually meant what I said and that I wouldn't turn back, I raced towards the ship, and escape this hell. _

_I don't think I will ever forget my life as Mayor Undersee's Daughter, the great times we'd had in District 12 and my childhood. I replayed the memory of my mother singing a lullaby to me softly as she brushed knots from my golden hair before bed as a child, and the warmth of her smile. These memories were all I had left of my life here, and they consumed my days and nights; both dreams and nightmares. _

_One thing was sure, I blamed myself. _

_But I blamed the Capitol even more; they would pay for what they had done._

_My life depended on it._


	8. Angel

A/N: Sorry about the slow updates. I've just become very lethargic lately. Hopefully I'll bresk my writers block an finally finish this! I hope you're enjoying it, and if you are, you should vote for me and this story on the Countdown to Mockigjay fanfic contest. I'm a contender, and I'm absolutely honoured. The sites link is .com/site/countdowntomockingjay/

All the other entries are fantastic. You should definitely give them a read! :D

Okay, here we go.

We were ready.

After what seemed like an eternity of too much planning and not enough action, we were ready to leave.

My father stood at the table, stooped over blueprints and combing through every single fine line until it was ingrained in his memory. They all stood there, warily watching, waiting for him to speak.

"We move in tonight." he said, cocking his head up from the table. His eyes glinted menacingly, and I remembered just how similar we were; it tore me to pieces and filled me with self-loathing.

But I had to get over my hatred for him.

He was leading me to Peeta.

Dad straightened his spine, and winced at the uncomfortable knots that had formed in his shoulder blades. He rolled his arms and closed his eyes, releasing the tension in his shoulders, but not in the room.

"I don't think we're ready," a squat man with a ruddy face and short grey hair stepped forward. He had a scar running across the right side of his face from escaping the explosion five years ago. "We've only had this plan in motion for a few weeks, and we don't even know if what _that girl _says is true."

I narrowed my eyes at him from my spot in the corner, leaning against the doorframe and watching everyone like a hawk. He could feel my gaze burning into his skull, looked at me briefly and hung his head in embarrassment.

"_That girl's_ name is Katniss," My dad said softly, which was far more menacing than if he had blown up. "And she's right. We need to infiltrate the Capitol, and we need to strike while the iron is hot. If Peeta Mellark is alive, it's a plus. We will not leave a man behind, agreed?"

There were murmurs of assent and eyes darting around the room to avoid my father's gaze.

"Agreed?" My father injected as much authority into his tone as possible. He really was a born leader, and drew all attention to him. HI steely determination radiated through the room and infected every member of his audience.

"Agreed." a unanimous assent echoed around the four walls. I was itching to get moving, but we were still parked firmly on the District 13 airship, planning.

Planning. I knew that the mission we were about to undertake was dangerous and needed serious consideration, but every minute we planned was another minute that the Capitol might decide that Peeta was disposable.

My chest began to implode at the thought. I swallowed down my fears and concentrated on my father's words. Finnick stood beside me, equally captivated, and leaned against the kitchen wall. The moon was high in the sky and stars twinkled through the infinite blackness. It was the perfect send-off. One last glimpse of hope before we set off to meet our doom. Some, or more realistically, most of us would die, but we would go down fighting, and the Capitol would remember us long after we were gone.

I shut my eyes and squeezed them tight, thinking of that night on the rooftop when Peeta and I had spoken- had a _real_ conversation-for the first time. I remembered how the moonlight had shone around his head like a halo. I saw the brief hint of a smile play across his lips and the fiery determination in his eyes when he told me he would not let the Capitol change him and he would be himself during the games.

Even during torture, he had not succumbed to their wishes. He was Peeta.

And I needed him back.

I squeezed my eyelids tighter, so tight they almost hurt and concentrated on the brightest star I had seen. I had ever been a big believer in fate. I always thought that things just happen by chance, and there was no predetermination; you just had to deal with the consequences of what life handed you.

But I concentrated on that star, shining like a beacon and pictured Peeta's face, and made one of the only wishes I had ever made in my life.

I wished for him to come home.

I wished for him to come home to me.

I wished for our safe arrival.

I wished for our survival.

Finnick's elbow lightly hit my ribs, and I recoiled at his touch.

"You okay?" he whispered, concern colouring his tone. I finally released the death grip hold on my eyelids, and gently touched my cheek. Wetness coated my hand as tears spilled down my face.

"I'm fine," I said, although as much as I tried to stop them, the tears would not stop falling.

"We'll get our boy back," Finnick said, "I promise."

"I'll hold you to that." I laughed quietly, but only half-heartedly. I knew that we had a thousand to one shot of ever finding Peeta, but a glimmer of hope still took a great stake in my heart, and as his face popped into my mind's eye once more, and I watched his face and every move and nuance, I realised he looked like an avenging angel.

More importantly, He was my guardian angel. He always had been.

Now I would return the favour.


	9. Promise

I said goodbye to my mother and Prim at the airbase.

They stood opposite my father and me, tears welling in both of their bright blue eyes. Prim grabbed my hand.

"Katniss, please stay."

"I can't, Prim," I said soothingly, trying to quell any tears that either of us might let go. "I need to do this."

"Katniss," Prim choked, tightening her grip on my hand, so hard that I almost lost all circulation flowing through my fingers. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't."

"How can you know that?" her voice was but a strangled mess of words, gushing out of her mouth.

"Twice."

"What?" Prim blinked in confusion.

"Twice I've left, and you thought I would die. And twice I've come back." I silently thought that I may not have deserved to, but I threw that thought aside in a fraction of a heartbeat.

"But what if…" she began, and I took her face between my hands and looked straight into her eyes.

"No what if's or maybe's," I told her. "Just believe it. And know that no matter what happens I love you, okay?"

"Katniss," she cried, tears streaming across her face and flowing down my hands. I shushed her, pulled her close against my chest and whispered "Okay?"

"Okay," she said, almost too quiet for me to hear, but loud enough to cause my chest to constrict with nerves and longing. I wanted more than anything for this all to be over, to be able to stay here and not think about death every second of my goddamn life.

But life isn't that kind.

And soon, it might all be over.

I released Prim from my grip, and she stepped back into my mother's arms. Mom placed a protective arm around Prim's chest and held her close. I took a deep, calming breath to steady myself before I spoke to her, not wanting any emotion, positive or otherwise to mar what I was trying to say.

"Promise me something," I said to her, looking her straight in her innocent eyes.

"Anything."

"No matter what happens,"

"Katniss," she began, but I interjected, sure I would lose my cool if she didn't let me get the words out.

"No matter what happens," I said again, injecting as much force as I could into the words, "promise me that you won't disappear again."

"What?"

"Prim needs you, and I need you to stay strong for her, because I may not be there to pick up the pieces."

"Katniss, I don't know…" She bit her lip and stared at me wide-eyed, as if only realising how much I did while she was drifting away.

"Just promise me this one thing, Mom." I closed my eyes and took another breath, felling it rush to every part of my body, and still feeling breathless at the same time.

"I promise," she said meekly, and before I knew what was happening, she had pulled me to her with her free arm; Prim was sandwiched between us, and held me close for a moment. I knew why.

It might have been her only chance.

I pulled away, gently, and stood still, drinking in this moment. Although I resented her for not being there when I needed her, and for taking back my father so easily, she was still my mother, and I could not leave her with such vicious feelings overtaking the warm, loving ones.

"I'll be back," I said, and I meant it with all my heart. I would come back to them.

I felt a hand grip my shoulder and recoiled at its touch. Even if I was beginning to forgive my mother, my father was a whole different ball game.

"I'll let you have a moment," I said, breaking away from his touch as though it burned me and heading back toward the docking door.

Sneaking a quick glance over my shoulder, I saw my mother and father in a passionate clinch, and my stomach turned. They were wholeheartedly and undeniably in love, and that was all there was to it.

I kept my gaze trained forward, like I had blinder's on and heard shouting coming from the inside of the ship. Haymitch was leaning against the docking door, shaking his head from side to side, and Finnick stood beside him, caught between amusement and frustration.

"What's wrong?" I asked, stepping into the stainless steel hub.

"Drama," Finnick said.

"Hormones," Haymitch added a second later.

I wasn't sure what they were talking about, until I heard a smashing sound from the galley. Haymitch, Finnick and I shared a quick look before rushing off to see what the cause of the commotion was.

I rounded the hallway and entered the galley. Madge and Gale stood at opposite ends of the table, staring each other down. A pile of broken glass lay on the floor beside Madge's feet. Apparently she had smashed the vase that sat on the table top.

"What's going on?" I asked, looking from one face to another. They both had looks of fierce determination, and each of their eyes blazed.

"What's going on," Gale laughed humourlessly, the muscles in his jaw beginning to twitch, "is that Madge is being unreasonable."

"And Gale is being an arrogant pig," Madge shot back, sneering at him. I had never seen this side of Madge before; she was vicious. I quite liked it.

"Why?" I asked.

Finnick groaned and shook his head. "Here we go again."

Haymitch grunted, "I'll shut the door. The others don't need to hear this. Again."

"Could someone please tell me what's going on?" I almost laughed when Madge and Gale simultaneously turned around and threw their arms up in exasperation.

"Madge is unreasonable."

"Gale is still an arrogant pig."

"Yeah, you said that already," I said, slowly growing frustrated, "but you haven't explained why."

"I'm going," Madge shot at Gale, who narrowed his eyes at her.

"No you're not." he breathed.

Madge made her way around the table, and Gale followed suit. They squared off, Madge getting into Gale's personal space, and Gale stared her down.

"I'm still confused." I pointed out.

"Madge _thinks_ she's coming to the Capitol." Gale said through gritted teeth.

"That's because I am," Madge said with equal parts frustration and defiance.

I just stared at them both, nonplussed, and let them carry on, not willing to interfere.

"Madge, you can't go," Gale began, "You'll be safer here."

"What if I don't want to be safe." she said.

"You'll only get in the way."

"I'm not helpless, Gale,"

"You'll get yourself killed," he groaned. I don't think any of us was prepared for what she said next.

"And what if I don't want to live?"

The tension in the room was palpable, as if time stood still in that moment as we reeled from her confession.

Madge's eyes filled with tears and she held her hands to her mouth, as though she could catch the words and ram them back in. But they were free, and there was no going back.

"What?" Gale choked. Apparently this is a new turn of events.

Madge stepped away from his and grabbed the kitchen table, steadying herself. She straightened herself after a moment, and Gale stood utterly still, mouth agape. He finally braved a step or two toward her, and she flipped around at the sound. Madge had composed herself, but she didn't seem upset, she seemed more determined.

"Madge," Gale said softly, emotion cracking his voice. "You don't mean that."

"Oh, I do." she said. It was eerie. Her voice was perfectly calm and controlled; like she was talking about the weather and not her own mortality. "I really do."

"You don't know what you're saying," Gale scoffed, taking another tentative step towards her.

"Don't I?" She laughed airily, but it sent shivers up and down my spine and set my neck hairs on end.

"No, you don't," Gale said fiercely. "You have no idea what you're saying. You're just a kid."

"I'm _not_ a kid," she hissed, "and I know exactly what I'm talking about. The Capitol took my home from me; they took my family. You think I'm going to go down without a fight? No sir. I'm not done with this."

"But you want to die?"

"And I'm going to take a hell of a lot of them with me," she said fiercely. I swear, I thought I say a trace of admiration in Gale's eyes as well as worry and….something else.

"And how are you going to do that?" Gale asked. "You have no training and you're weak Madge. The guys they have will end you in a heartbeat, and I won't let that happen to you. I won't let you die."

"Why?" She laughed breathlessly, "It's not like I have anything left to live for."

I say Gale's shoulder's hunch, and saw how he felt the sting of her words. Although I felt the knot in my stomach before he said it, I knew it was coming.

"What about me?"

"What about you?" She asked, caught off guard.

"Won't you live for me?"

Madge's breath caught in her throat, and shock passed through her body like a lightning bolt.

"I….what…Gale…I…" Madge was stuck for words and Gale took a final step towards her, his face only inches from her.

"I can't watch you die," He said, "I can't see you sacrifice yourself for this. We will defeat the Capitol, but I won't let you be a casualty of war."

"That's not up to you." she said.

"Oh, really? Then who?"

"Me," We all turned at the voice, and Haymitch leaned against the wall, spinning a pen-knife between his gnarled and withered fingers.

"Haymitch," Gale scoffed, "You can't be serious."

"Deadly serious," Haymitch said, unperturbed by Gale's unbelieving attitude. "We need all the help we can get."

"And Madge will help?" Gale laughed. I shot him a withering look, but he never broke his stance. "Madge couldn't hurt a fly."

"Thanks," She said, her voice full of disdain.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, but answer me this Gale? If it was your family murdered right in front of your eyes, and you could do nothing to stop it, wouldn't you go? If you had watched your father run to his death, and your mother burn to the ground while you were safe and sound, wouldn't you want revenge?"

"That's not the point," he said.

"That's exactly the point!" She yelled. "The Capitol took everything away from me. I won't go down without a fight."

"That's settled then," Haymitch called from the back of the room, pocketing his knife and clapping his hands together. "Let's get going."

"But…" Gale began, but I cut him off.

"Let it go, Gale. We're wasting time. We have to leave. C'mon Madge," I shot her a swift smile, which she returned, and we began to leave. Gale backed up against the wall and rested his head against the wooden cupboard door, closing his eyes to control his temper. We got to the door Haymitch stood at and waited for him to open it.

"Wait," Madge said, "Just one more thing." Before any of us knew what was happening, Madge had pick pocketed the knife out of Haymitch's jacket, flicked it open with precise skill and hurled it across the room, lodging it in the cupboard door, millimetres from Gale's left ear. He heard the whirring noise and had opened his eyes just in time to see the knife fly past him.

Gale jumped, his chest heaving.

"What the hell?" He yelled. Haymitch, Finnick and I stared in shock and turned to Madge, who smiled slyly. Gale caught her eyes, and her grin broadened, but her voice grew deadly.

"Don't ever call me weak again, you got it?" She said. Gale nodded his assent, unable to formulate words or syllables.

"Good," Madge smiled, and the door flew open. The wind blustered in and Madge's hair flew back. I swear, I would never look at Madge the same way again Madge was fierce, and I couldn't stop myself from grinning.

"Let's go," she said. "We've got a boy to save."

The engines started. We were on our way to the Capitol.


	10. Flight

**We had made it across Panem, picking up rebels from other districts as we went to improve our numbers. They grabbed onto the hanging ladders and were carried up without the ship stopping mid-flight. **

**We made it to the Capitol's airspace. **

**And that's when the trouble started.**

_**Boom**_**.**

As soon as we passed the border of District 1, we were attacked by a barrage of planes. The ship rattled and shook from the constant attacks from the Capitol. We were forty thousand feet in the air. If the ship fell, we would die.

Fact. .

"Get ready," My father's voice was drowned out by another missile hitting the right side of the ship. We were all thrown off our feet, grabbing for anything to hold us steady. As I reached for the door handle, another attack sent me soaring through the air. I was elevated for a moment, though it felt like forever, before I was thrown back into the stainless steel wall in the ship's tunnel. With a sickening crunch, I hit the wall, stars exploding before my eyes; like a constellation. Every breath was blown out of my body, and I slumped against the floor, gliding down the hall.

_Boom_

Another missile forced its way into the ships hull, reverberating through my bones. I trembled from the force of the explosion, and tried to pull myself up off the ground.

_Boom._

Another explosion. I fell again; my ears ringing, the constant drone of bells circling my skull, before a sudden rush of wind crashed against my face.

_Riiiip_

The sound of screeching metal touched my ears. The sound was excruciating. It was like the angle-grinders and machines the miner's had used in District 12. The sound pierced my skull, and I shut my eyes to try and think.

Then I realised I hadn't stopped gliding.

I was being pulled towards the doors, faster than I thought possible, and my eyes seared from the change in light intensity. I glanced over my shoulder.

The ship's door was missing.

I scrambled up the hall, using cracks and crevices in the floor to hold myself steady until I could find some leverage. My heart was pounding out of my chest, like I was falling one hundred feet away from it and bungee jumping back.

The metal ripped further, and I struggled to hold on to the grills on the floor; metal slicing through my fingers.

The grid I held onto began to shake beneath my fingers, the metal being wrenched away from the pressure. I have no idea how, but I swear I could hear the plinking of the nuts and screws as they were torn away from the grid.

"Katniss," My father's screams broke over the thunderous noise, and I inclined my head an inch to look for him. He was holding onto the wall, his arm outstretched to help me. I kept my head planted solidly on the grill, taking deep breaths, which were coming thick and fast.

"Katniss," He yelled again, his voice beginning to break from the force of his screams. Madge, Gale, Finnick and a man and a woman from district 7 stared at me, and I felt my heart pound even quicker.

"Get up," Gale screamed, his eyes wide. Madge stood beside him, shaking.

The grid was growing looser and looser. It was untamed and uncontrollable, the pressure forcing it from the floor.

I knew what was going to happen before it had. The metal grid flew out of the floor like a bird taking flight and I was wrenched back and thrown from the ship.

My arms flailed as I tried to grab onto something, anything, but there was nothing. I saw all their faces. Filled with shock, but also understanding.

After all, we'd been prepared for this.

I was soaring through the air, falling faster and faster through a constant stream of clouds. My eyes were dry from the breeze and my fingers were numb from the freezing pressure. My stomach felt like it had stayed on the ship and had just plopped back into me. Adrenaline burst through my veins, and my mind raced through the possibilities.

I counted down.

3.

I clutched my hands into fists and gritted my teeth. Strands of my hair had come loose from my pony-tail.

2.

My jacket was flailing around me, like wings. I almost laughed that my symbol, and the symbol of the rebellion, was the "Mockingjay", and yet all I wanted, and what I couldn't have, was wings.

1.

I braced myself and found the button on my vest. The light was green, and the ground was growing uncomfortably close.

I pressed the button.

It was like every bone in my body had been crushed as I was yanked upwards, the pain beneath my arms excruciating. I was pulled upwards, about 100 feet or so, and began to slow down. I took another deep breath, and looked around me. There were no other jets, and I saw six other black dots floating high above me.

I glanced over my left shoulder, and watched as the airship I had lived on for the last 3 months, and had saved me from the Quarter Quell, was engulfed in a sea of red and exploded in a shower of crimson and gold.

The Capitol thought they had stopped us.

We were just two steps ahead of them.

We had left our comrades at the border of the capitol, with clothes for blending in and an assortment of weapons to tide them over. We six had stayed on the ship to provide a distraction. Dad had put the ship on autopilot, and we had each strapped on bungee-jackets that we had pilfered from other districts and the Capitol themselves right under their noses. My father and the others in District 13 had spent years gathering Intel and weaponry for the revolution.

It was finally here.

I clutched the straps of my bungee-jacket, and reached around to ensure that my backpack was securely attached to it. It was.

I was prepared for the fight.

But the Capitol weren't prepared for us.

I drifted back and forth through the sky, growing slower and slower as I approached the ground. I braced myself as I hit the landing site. I bounced back and forth on the ground, and it hurt like hell. My legs were jelly and I fell back and forth, and landed on the ground more times than I successfully stood up. Finally, when I gathered some balance, I unsheathed a knife from my belt, so as to be prepared for any unwelcome intruders, and waited for the others.

I saw them running across the stretch of green; an unlikely find in the Capitol, but perfect for our operations.

Gale and Finnick reached me first, panting from their sprint, and smiling wickedly.

"You always have to do things the hard way, don't you Katnip?" Gale teased.

"Obviously," I said. I couldn't stop grinning. The flight had been such an adrenaline rush. It was almost indescribable.

"Good to see you made it," Finnick said, lightly punching my shoulder in an affectionate way, like an older brother to a kid sister.

My father pulled up soon after.

"Well," He said, caught between laughter and shock. "That was unexpected."

"You're telling me," Gale said. I remained silent.

"It wasn't exactly what we planned, but it may have worked out for the best." Dad said and I scowled.

"Glad you think so. I would have liked a moment to prepare for the jump."

"Good point," Finnick said.

"But the jets saw you fall. They think you died. They won't be looking for you. And they think we died in the explosion. It will make this all that much easier. We have the element of surprise."

"Also a good point," Finnick said again.

We shucked off our bungee jackets as Madge and the other two fighters pulled up behind us.

Madge pulled a pile of clothes from her bag, as well as an assortment of make-up so colourful it scorched my retinas. Perfect for Capitol camouflage.

"These will fit over our suits," she said smartly, pulling out more dresses and suits in outlandish colours and thrusting them at us. I frowned in disdain.

"Good," My father clapped his hands together. "Now then, who's up for a trip to the Capitol?"


	11. Break

We split into two groups. Madge, Finnick and my father, broke off into one group, deciding to infiltrate the streets, find optimum attacking points and find a means of escape. After all, what is a break in without a getaway car?

That left me, Gale and Lila and Bart from District 7 to sneak through the streets, try to remain hidden and to find a way into the Capitol's headquarters; finding the most likely location to find President Snow and, therefore, Peeta.

Nobody said it was going to be easy, but I never imagined it would be _this _hard.

"We're going to the east district," My father told us, sharing out weapons from each of our bags. I felt heavy and cumbersome under the weight of the weaponry, but still, it provided a sense of security that I was extremely grateful for. I draped my bow over my shoulder and strapped a quiver onto my back.

The old safety net.

Gale flipped knives agilely between his fingers, juggling them skilfully before sheathing them in his belt. Madge gave him a slow clap, which he returned with a cocky grin.

"Don't act like you're not impressed," he said. I rolled my eyes and Madge quirked and eyebrow.

"I'm not. That's child's play."

"Right," he scoffed.

Madge pulled out a butterfly knife, with her initials monogrammed onto the handle, and rolled it back and forth between her fingers, flipped it around her head and caught it again, handle fitted perfectly into her open palm, before flipping it closed like it was nothing.

Gale was practically salivating over the knife. "Where did you get that?" He asked, awestruck.

"More importantly," I added hastily, "_How_ did you do that?"

"Haymitch," she said simply.

"_Haymitch?_" Gale and I cried in unison, sure we had misheard her.

"As in Abernathy?" I added intelligently, and Madge laughed her breezy laugh that had always brightened up a room. I hadn't heard it in a while. Her eyes shone brightly, anticipation flowing through her.

"That's the one." she replied. "He's been giving me lessons for years."

"What?" Finnick joined in our astonishment.

"Yeah," she said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Of course. My aunt had helped him out, and our resemblance in uncanny. So, for as long as I can remember, Haymitch has come to my house at least once a week and shown me how to throw. This," she said, stroking the handle of her butterfly knife fondly, "was my tenth birthday present. I had a thing for butterflies back then; they're even on the handle." she sheathed it again and pulled the strap of her backpack onto her shoulder, pulling her hair out from beneath the strap. "Knives are my forte. I'm a dab hand at whipping too. I can hit any target from approximately 20 feet. Sometimes longer. Depends on my mood. Could never get archery though," she frowned, and then her expression brightened. "Good thing Katniss here is an expert. Thanks for the lessons."

"No problem," I said, almost laughing. It struck me that even though we were friends, I may not know Madge Undersee as well as I thought I did.

I'm not sure anyone did.

We split up then, our group heading toward the west side and hiding under our cloaks for protection. Thankfully, ever since the 74th Hunger Games-my games- the hooded jackets had been en vogue. We blended into the street, but we hung close to shady alleys and corners. I couldn't be seen, I couldn't be discovered, because the whole operation would be in jeopardy. We were safe for now. The Capitol thought they had taken out the intruders, but we were just accumulating in numbers. We were the reconnaissance group.

Get Peeta, get out. That was my motto.

The other districts were destroyed, desolate and crumbling. The constant fighting reeked havoc on the people and places, nothing picture perfect any longer.

Except for the Capitol.

Nothing had changed in its pristine appearance. It glowed, and each resident nattered happily as we passed them on the street, sporting Mockingjay pins and necklaces; some even went as far as to tattoo themselves and attach prosthetic wings to their clothes.

I didn't know how I felt about it, and I didn't give myself time to ponder. All that went through my mind was "Peeta. Peeta. Peeta."

It matched the beat of my heart.

Peeta. Peeta. Peeta.

I had to find him.

Gale pulled me into the alleyway, and Lila and Bart followed soon after. They were shadowing us so as not to draw attention. People seemed to travel in packs of twos and threes here.

The Capitol was weird.

And deadly.

But mainly weird.

"There's the headquarters," Gale said, inclining his head toward the gleaming building shining like a beacon in the centre of the city. It was at least 200 feet tall and made from shimmering glass. The sun's rays were caught in the panes, fragmented into a thousand tiny multicoloured pieces.

I couldn't help but be mesmerised by it.

No wonder the Capitol's residents favoured colour.

"So how do we do this?" I asked, to no one in particular.

"The bottom floor is the oldest part of the building; it's been there since the Capitol's formation. If we can get into the basement, we can work our way up through the building's mainframe. The all we have to do is get through 6 layers of security, bypass the alarms and remain undetected to get to President Snow." Lila said, sharing a look with Bart, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, is that all?" Gale said. Sarcasm never did suit him.

"Shut it, Gale," I pursed my lips as my mind went into overdrive. This was going to be tough. We just had to work through it, and not get caught. Or else we were dead. There was no two ways about it.

"Okay," I said finally, ducking my head around the corner. "Let's go."

I darted off into a crowd, ducking my head to hide my face beneath my hood and praying no one did a double take. No one pushed or shoved, and everyone seemed to be talking about a party held at Annaliese Dashwillow's last night. Apparently Portia DeBasil had been the life and soul of the party, and Jonah Berg had proposed to his girlfriend, and the wedding would be in June. All this trivial and useless information swarmed around my head like a bunch of tracker-jackers in my skull, pressing against the bone. I quickened my pace and concentrated on the sound of my breathing to distract myself from the infernal nattering.

Finally, I reached the great gleaming skyscraper, and tried not to stare at the sight for too long. After all I was meant to blending in. Acting like a tourist in the Capitol was uncool.

Discreetly, I sidled up to the buildings wall and waited on the others. After about ten minutes of hiding behind the recycling machine parked beside the wall, Gale arrived. Five minutes later, so did Bart and Lila. Lila had a copy of the building's blueprints that my father and his associates had logged onto hardcopies in machines that some of the guys from district 3 had knocked up for us.

There was a 3D mock up of the building, starting from the basement and going all the way to they very top, with President Snow's office.

Somewhere in there. Peeta Mellark was held hostage. Finally, _finally_, we were going to get something done.

"So, if we can get into the building, we may be able to sneak our way up through the different levels…" Bart began.

"And how do we do that?" Gale asked.

I spotted a small window beside us and rammed my foot into the pane. The glass smashed into tiny pieces, falling onto the pavement and back into the building. I rammed my foot into it again until every piece of glass was gone.

Who knew breaking and entering could be such a cathartic experience?

Lila, Bart and Gale stared at me.

"Actions speak louder than words," I said, and hopped into the hole I had just created. I landed in a crouch in the basement, and the others followed.

We were going to get Peeta.

It was about time, too.


	12. Crawl

The Basement was dark and dusty. It was unexpected really in such a clinical and clean building. The basement was the building's deep, dark, dirty secret.

There was a small, grimy window to the right of the door. I stood on my tiptoes and peeked outside. Guards were strolling by in two's and threes.

Everything here seemed to run in two's and threes.

There were two guards directly outside the door. A male and a female. It was out only chance. I crooked my fingers behind my back, beckoning the others, before sneaking behind the door. I pulled a knife out of my belt and Gale did the same, and with enviable stealth, we threw the door open, captured the two guards by their throats, and pulled them inside. Al in the matter of a few moments. It had to e some kind of record.

Lila checked the window again, and nodded that we were clear. The guards struggled, and with a quick flick of a knife, the male grew limp in my arms. Gale still struggled with the female, who seemed to be gaining access to her gun. Without thinking, I grabbed a Taser from my pocket and send 10,000 volts jolting through her system. Gale leaped back, his knife fell to the floor and the woman twitched and turned before falling unconscious.

"You have to act fast," I told him.

"I know," he said, "I was just about to…"

"I get it. The first kill is always the hardest." I kneeled down, pulled off her uniform, like Bart had done to the male guard and was about to cut from left ear to right; right on the carotid artery. She would be dead instantly.

The first kill was the hardest. Not that killing was easy. But it had to be done.

"Wait," Lila cried, gripping my wrist before I could go for the fatal wound.

"What?"

"Wake her up."

"What?" I was sure Lila had gone crazy. Surely she didn't mean that the guard should live. That would mean we would all die.

Lila poked around the pockets of the woman's uniform, extracting anything and everything she could find. There were two guns-freshly loaded- and a device to contact other guards in the headquarters. Gale threw it out the window, where it was safely hidden in the dark alley.

"She can help us?"

"Yeah, to the firing squad." I scoffed.

"She may know where Peeta Mellark is."

That stopped me. No other argument would have worked.

"All right." I said, and slapped the woman fiercely across the face. There was a red welt from where my hand had landed, but the woman was still out. I slapped again and again, and slowly she came to consciousness, drooling and drowsy.

"Wha'…" she mumbled, her words barely coherent, saliva slobbering all over her chin.

"Where are they keeping Peeta Mellark?" I asked, and she stared at me like I was speaking a completely foreign language. I grabbed her by the collar of her undershirt and shook her, pulling her up to eye level.

"Where's Peeta?" I asked again, my voice controlled in its anger, but my hands trembling. "Tell me."

"Katnip?" Gale said softly, drawing himself down to my level. "He might not be here. He's dead."

"He's not!" I said through gritted teeth and shook the woman again. Her head hung back limp, rolling from one side to another.

"Katniss," Gale said, "I'm sorry, but he's…"

"Peeta" the word was slurred as it exited the woman's mouth, and time stood still. Gale froze, shoulder's tensed.

"Yes," I asked again, holding her firmly in front of me, eyes trained on hers. "Where is he?"

"4th floor," She said, spitting out a chunk of blood on the floor. Apparently I had slapped her just hard enough to do some damage.

Good, I thought.

"How do I get there, without being seen?" I asked.

"Air vent," she coughed out. "Air vent…building…connected…Prisoner."

"Yes,"

"Please," she mumbled, tears in her eyes. "Don't kill me."

"Sorry," I said, and reached for the knife. I made it quick and painless. After all, she's helped us. But I couldn't let her go. My stomach twisted in a knot as her eyes stared blankly back at me, covered by death's cataracts; glassy and unseeing.

"He's alive," Gale said, in shock.

"Yes, I told you that already," I said quietly, placing my thumb and index fingers on her eyelids.

A mark of respect. It was what made us different from the Capitol. We only killed when we need to. They did t for sport. I may seem like a cold, heartless monster, but I would die before I turned out just like them.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to the lifeless corpse, before grabbing a gun off Bart, placing the safety on and looping it through my belt.

Bart and Lila grabbed the suits and put them on. Adjustments had to be made, as the male guard was taller than Bart, who was just a little taller than me, and the female was slimmer than Lila. Her suit was a little tight, but not noticeably.

"You get to Peeta, and we'll make our way upstairs. Here," Lila tossed the handheld computer to me. "I can't get caught with contraband. You can use t to navigate the ducts."

"Thank you. For everything," Bart and Lila nodded to me as I bid farewell.

"It's been an honour, Katniss." Lila said.

"Been nice knowing you, kid." Bart said, winking.

They both left the room and joined the throng of people entering the hall.

I would see them again. I was sure of it.

"So, you were right." Gale said, breaking the awkward moment between us.

"Yep," I said. "I never thought you were a fan of the obvious, Gale?"

"I'm not," he said, "or else I would have said 'Peeta's alive, against all odds.' How did you know?"

"I just did," I said, walking to the air vent. I couldn't reach the screws so I grabbed a solid looking box, tested my weight on it, and when I didn't fall through, used it as leverage.

"But how?" Gale asked.

"I don't know."

"You couldn't have heard anything differently from me. You wouldn't be so sure just by a blank screen. There has to be a reason." he pressed, and my blood began to boil.

"Just drop it, Gale," the muscle in my jaw tensed as I fumbled with the screws in the vent/ One finally came loose and clattered to the ground.

"I have to know." He said finally, and the tone of his voice made me pause for a moment. Gale was my best friend for years; we'd been through everything together; he loved me. The least he deserved was an answer.

"I have no reason. It's just blind faith."

"You never jump into anything blind." Gale said softly. "You have to have an answer for everything."

"Apparently I acquired that from you," I smiled crookedly, but it was forced. Another screw hopped loose.

"So why?"

"This sounds crazy, but I feel like I would know."

"How?"

"I have no idea. But he's alive. We can save him. That's all that matters." My voice grew tense as another screw popped loose. Just one more to go.

I pulled at it, and Gale stood behind me. I glanced back at him and his expression grew sombre, yet understanding.

"You love him, don't you?"

The final screw popped loose, and I grabbed the grid in my hands in my hands. I gave him no answer.

The answer was written all over my face.

"That's what I thought," Gale half-smiled, but his shoulder's drooped. My heart actually broke in two when I saw his expression of understanding and sadness combines as one, but I couldn't comfort him, or contradict him.

I realised he was right.

But now was not the time to argue or deal with melodrama. I pulled myself into the air vent and crawled forwards, Gale in hot pursuit.

The vent was typical of what you would expect. It was perfectly rectangular and twisted back and forth with every corridor, room and floor. The stainless steel panels were held together by metal rivets, every two feet containing another square panel, every ten feet a turn. I had room to manoeuvre, thanks to my small build and lithe frame. Gale was having more trouble thanks to his broad shoulders. We crawled on our stomachs, using our elbows to pull us forward, like when we used to hunt in the forests of the District 12.

That seemed like a lifetime ago. I stared at the screen of the handheld, which told us to take the next right, and then pull ourselves up the vent to the next floor. Sure enough, after the following right turn, the vent turned vertical, and I drew myself into a standing position, threw the handheld forward and pulled myself over the ledge. I grabbed the device again, crawling forward and waited for Gale. We made our way through. I caught his eye and quickly nodded before crawling forward. We were in this together. I would take the lead. He would follow. He'd be there for me, and I'd be there for him. We were both here for Peeta.

2nd floor. Time to get moving.

I watched the floors on the handheld, turning left and right and climbing upwards until we finally reached the fourth floor. My heart skipped a beat and my pulse quickened. Adrenaline coursed through my veins likes a tidal wave crashing through my system. Every grid we passed, I glanced through, straining my eyes for any sign of that ash-blonde hair.

After about ten minutes, I felt like punching my hand through the wall, or smacking some one very hard in the face. There was of sign of him.

The guard must have lied.

"Damn it!" I exclaimed as quietly as I could. Guard passed underneath us, marching in pairs, like monotonous drones or soulless automatons.

I heard a tapping nose behind me, and I craned my head over my shoulder. Gale was tapping the grid to his left, his eyes wide. He shuffled back to let me get a closer look. I scanned ever inch of the room, looking for what had caused his excitement.

That's when I caught a hint of blonde.

My tongue was dry and my throat constricted. Surely I was seeing things.

No.

It was him.

It was Peeta.

He was strapped to a chair, silently teetering back and forth on its hind legs, trying to worm his way out his constraints, but failing miserably.

A fighter to the end.

I smiled to myself. I knew it.

Gale backed up another foot or so and I hunched myself into a ball and manoeuvred myself around. I faced him and mouthed out what I planned to do.

Thankfully, Gale was proficient at lip reading.

His dad had thought him how.

"I'm going to open up this panel and hop down. I'll free Peeta and make sure the coast is clear. When I'm sure it is, I'll whistle. Then we'll pull him up here, get him to the others, and rejoin the fight. Deal?"

"Deal" he mouthed back, his lips quirking at the thought of a good fight. Gale, more than anyone else I knew, wanted the Capitol's regime to be over.

Finally, he was getting his wish; we were getting some action.

Slowly and quietly, I unscrewed the panel beneath me. It came loose in my hands. I glanced through the grid. Peeta's gaze flickered up infinitesimally, but he shook his head and continued fighting the ropes. I passed Gale the grid, secured with a length of rope we had packed with our weaponry and began the descent from the ceiling.

I fell into a crouch and straightened my spine.

"Peeta," I breathed, not even trying to hide the smile that seemed to be splitting my face in two.

I had imagined discovering Peeta many times, and how he would react when I came to save him. He had been, ecstatic, pleased, even sometimes confused.

This was not what I was expecting.

He was scared.

"Katniss, no!"

"What?" I barely had time to get the word out when a hand came down and something very heavy clocked me in the back of the skull. A constellation burst before my eyes, and before I fell into nothingness, one thought dwindled in my mind.

Peeta had been scared for me.


	13. Shock

I saw a white tunnel of light; just an endless blur of brightness extending for infinity before my eyes.

There was a faint humming noise somewhere to my right. I squinted against the harsh light and strained my ears to hear the sound clearly. Slowly, but surely, the sound began to form a word.

One word.

Repeated again and again.

Anxiously.

Katniss.

My eyelids fluttered open and the light began to dim. It wasn't a long white tunnel after all. It was a flickering fluorescent bulb.

My head was swimming, like I had been underwater for a long, _long_ time and had just broken the surface, gasping for air. I was groggy and slowly sat into a crouched position, my head hanging limply between my knees, trying to clear the haze in my mind.

"Katniss?" Peeta's voice was strained and urgent as I sat up, but beneath the worry were colours of relief. "You're alive."

"Just." I smiled feebly. There was a dull throbbing sensation radiating through the back of my skull. I lifted a hand and touched the spot gingerly. I winced. The pain was mind-numbing, but not anything I hadn't experienced before. I just had to let it pass. My hand fell into my lap again, limply. It was covered in red.

I was bleeding.

Well, that was a complication.

"Oh," I said intelligently. I twisted my neck to get a better view of my whereabouts. The same room I was in before. However, now I was sitting right beside the chair Peeta was tied to. I glanced up at him, and my chest tightened.

It was him.

It was really him.

"Katniss?" he asked. "Are you okay? "

"I'll live," I said. "Why?"

"You have a weird look on your face." he said, smirking. "It's cute."

I pursed my lips, and tried to stop myself from smiling. I tried to stand up and stumbled back into my former position.

My leg was tied to the chair.

"What happened?"

"He hit you," Peeta hissed, fury bubbling through his words. "He could have killed you."

"Yeah, but he didn't," I said, and tried to free myself from the restraint. The knot was impossible to unravel. It was like a labyrinth, twisting back and forth with no foreseeable way free.

"I wish you hadn't come." Peeta said softly, and I stopped pulling at the knot and narrowed my eyes at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"They told me you died," he said, "they told me over and over, trying to convince me. I knew you couldn't be dead. I don't know how. I just…."

"You would have felt it?" I offered, almost laughing.

"Exactly," Peeta said. "I know that makes no sense…"

"Trust me," I said, "I know exactly how you feel. But that doesn't explain why you don't want me here."

Peeta hung his head. "Katniss, I'll hold you back."

"What?"

"You have a revolution to lead. You _are_ the Mockingjay. You're what the Capitol never intended to create."

"I don't understand," My mind was already swimming, and Peeta's raced confession was making it reel.

Peeta laughed bitterly. "District 12 was a joke to the Capitol. They never thought of us as a threat. They never imagined what we could do. Like a Mockingjay. You know the story. How the Mockingjay was formed and the Capitol did nothing about it, didn't think of it as a threat. Like you Katniss. You never should have been able to survive the Hunger Games, but you did, and you incited a rising. Through your bravery and courage and…just by being your incredible self, you made a difference. Me? What can I do?"

"You can change the world," I told him fiercely, blushing from his compliments, and from fury because of his self deprecation. "Peeta, you matter."

He barked a laugh. "Right,"

"You matter." I said, pulling at his shirt form my seated position and forcing him to look at me. "You can change the world with your words. You're persuasive, charismatic, and a better person than I could ever be. You have to know that you matter."

"Sure," he said, breaking my gaze. I pulled him back.

"You matter…..and you matter to me."

He held my gaze for what seemed like an eternity, searching it for some hint of a lie or act. His blue eyes, the ones I had dreamed off for the past three and a half months, constantly, and would perpetually anchor me to this world, grew wide in understanding.

He saw what Gale had seen.

He saw what I had just come to realise.

That I wholeheartedly and unconditionally loved him.

I couldn't lose him again.

Peeta's mouth hung open, gaping like a fish out of water, moving up and down soundlessly. He was about to say something, when the door of the room swung open, and a tall, slender figure walked in.

He began to clap, slowly.

"How cute," he sneered. I was frozen, my blood running cold as I stared at him.

No.

It couldn't be.

"What?" I spluttered out. "But…no…It can't be….you?"

"Yes, me," he grinned. His smile was like that of a shark. All tooth, no mercy.

"But….you're dead." I stuttered. My mind reeling.

It couldn't be him.

"No, I'm very much alive. Thank you very much."

"But…" I began again, but he placed a finger to his lips and shushed me.

"Now, now. Children should be seen and not heard, if I remember correctly."

My breathing became heavy and jagged, like the air I pulled into my lungs exited automatically.

Breathless. I was breathless.

Slowly coming to my senses, I remembered the gun I had pocketed earlier. Discreetly, I reached around my back and felt for it my belt loop, hoping to catch him off guard.

I panicked slightly, but refused to show it, when there was nothing to be found.

He laughed quietly and took another step forward.

"Looking for something, sweetheart?"

I scowled at the nickname but remained silent. He whipped my gun from his long, black, thigh-length jacket.

"Such a big weapon for such a little girl," he said, flipping around his thumb and tutted patronisingly.

I hated him.

"But you're all grown up now, aren't you, Kitty Kat?"

I said nothing, just fuming. I cast a glance up to the air vent, and shook my head inconspicuously so Gale would not react.

He had shown great restraint so far.

"Winning the Games once was a feat, but surviving twice?" his smile was menacing, his airy tone causing the hairs on my neck to stand on end. "Now, that's an accomplishment. I watched, like everyone else. I even put my money on you."

"Thanks a lot." I spat.

"I always knew you were a survivor. Even when you were a little girl, following your Dad around the forest. It was so….sweet." he sneered.

"What do you want?" I asked bluntly, sick of his running commentary.

"Oh, I'm just biding my time, toying with you until the others come. Of course, I should call them first, but where's the fun in that, huh?"

"You have me," I said, still fighting against my restraints. "Let Peeta go. He's done nothing."

"Really?" the man asked. "Nothing?"

"No,"

"He spat on me, does that count?"

That's when it clicked.

"It was you? On the broadcast. I should have recognised your voice!"

"I disguised it well," He smiled. "I knew you would come looking for him. When the first Games were on, and you two paired up and you were pretending to be in love with him, I knew something was up. But then in the Quarter Quell, when you actually fell in love with the boy? Oh, it was delicious. I knew you would do anything to save him, so I used it to my advantage. Is your father here? Or did he die in the mine like the others."

"Like you should have, you mean?" I snarled.

"You're sick," Peeta through in, staring at him vehemently.

"Now, now, play nice." he teased. "Or things might start to get a little….tense."

"You're twisted." I said, anger welling its way to the surface. "Absolutely twisted."

"I warned you," he said, his eyes growing cold. "You should have played nice."

A second later, I screamed in agony. It was the worst pain I had experienced in my life. Like nothing I had ever known.

Smoke billowed out from the barrel of the gun.

The hole in my kneecap bleeding profusely as hot metal lodged itself in the bone.

"Katniss!" Peeta screamed, struggling against his restraint, trying to break free to help me.

I hadn't wanted him to see me cry, to see me weak, but the pain was too excruciating that tears flowed like rivers from my eyes and I howled for mercy.

"Now," he said, as though nothing had ever happened. "From now on you might listen when I tell you to do something."

"God!" I cried out, panting from the exertion of trying to stay conscious through the blistering pain.

"Now," he said. "About your father?"

"He's dead." I said.

"Now," he said "why don't I believe you?"

"Because you're psychopathic?" Peeta said.

"Quiet down Mellark, because I have a gift for you, that would go great with your temple."

Peeta bit his lip, but stared furiously at our captor. While I writhed on the floor, my mind raced and pieces of the jigsaw clicked together.

"The mines. It was you, wasn't it?" I breathed, my words barely more than a whisper.

"Well done," he said. "Intelligent too. You would be, being Reed and Rose's daughter. Yes, it was me. It was the only way to escape from that wretched hole, District 12, and get to the Capitol. I had to appear to be dead. The others were already planning a revolution, you're father in charge, so I just….accelerated the process. "

"But your family?"

For once, he seemed ashamed. "My biggest regret was leaving them. But the Capitol promised me they would be looked out for and that none of the children would ever be in the Games."

"So, as long as they were safe, you were willing to kill everyone else."

"I would do anything for my family," he said.

"Then you should have fought with the others. You should have joined the revolution, and not become one of the Capitol's pawns. You're pathetic."

"Don't call me pathetic," his voice grew angrier by the minute, and his controlled calm had ebbed away, replaced by pure unadulterated fury.

"You're weak." I carried on. He took a few steps forward, till he was close enough that I could smell the cigarette smoke from his breath.

"I am not weak."

"You're nothing." I spat at him. It landed right in his eye. He wiped it away with a disgusted look on his face, before taking a step back and controlling his emotions.

"I think it's time we bid adieu." he said, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out his short-wave radio.

There was a thump and a click, and he froze, his short wave radio clutched in a death grip in his hands.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Gale said, cocking the gun into the man's back, fury and betrayal simmering beneath his grey eyes, while his expression remained cold and calculated.

"Gale?" He asked, shocked for the first time. Gale pressed the gun harder into his back.

"Hello Dad."


	14. Turn

"Hello Son," Constantine Hawthorne was frozen in place, his eyes shut tight to regain some sense of self. He hadn't been expecting that.

Neither had Gale.

I would have helped Gale, except for two reasons;

One: I was tied to a chair.

Two: I was in agony.

Gale sucked in a breath to relieve his tension. "Right. So….."

Constantine remained silent, not daring to move.

"Katniss, you okay?"

"Never better," I grunted through gritted teeth. The pain hadn't ceased in the slightest, but I had to get over it. I couldn't just sit here like easy prey; like a lone fish in a tiny barrel.

Gale fumbled around his belt with one hand while keeping the gun cocked with the other. He threw his knife on the ground and kicked it to me with his foot. It stopped centimetres from my hand, well within reaching distance.

Gale always had good aim.

I sawed the knot open, which took longer than expected. Con Hawthorne had done an excellent job. Even with the frayed rope, thanks to my pulling and biting while I tried to pry it open, it took a good five minutes to saw myself free.

Finally, when the rope fell like ribbons around my ankle, I pulled myself up and fell to the ground once more. Biting the inside of my cheek, I ignored the pain. It was proving difficult. My leg was weak and shook underneath me. I leaned on the back of Peeta's chair for support.

"Katniss?" Peeta asked, full of concern, like always.

"I'll be okay." I lied, not sure I would be. But we had to get out of here, even if I limped my way to freedom, we would leave here alive.

I took the knife and sliced through Peeta's binds while Gale waited patiently.

"Does it hurt you, Gale?" Con asked, finally daring to catch his son's eyes.

"Does what hurt me? Drop that radio, _now!"_ Gale growled. Con conceded and the radio clattered onto the floor, hopping twice before remaining void and motionless.

I helped Peeta up, but ended up leaning on his for support. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me into an embrace. He breathed in my scent, committing it to memory, and I just lay there, against his chest, content in that moment and knowing that we couldn't live there forever. The thought crushed me, but hope of a future full of similar moments spurred me on.

"Does _that_ hurt you?" Con asked slowly, letting his words poison Gale's mind.

"No," Gale said, gripping the gun's handle even tighter than before.

"Knowing that she'll never love you, even after all these years? Knowing that to her, you'll always be _just a friend_." Each word was like a bullet to Gale and he flinched as it exited his father's mouth. I stared at Gale, and released myself from Peeta's arms, but still using him for leverage. My right leg had been shot, and his titanium prosthetic gave us both balance.

In that moment, we were one.

We had to be.

Gale's cool and collected mask began to falter, and I knew that Con was getting to him.

"Don't listen to him Gale."

"It doesn't hurt me," Gale said softy.

"Really?" Con said in mock surprise. "I would have thought it would eat away at you. Pecking away at your guts like a vulture till there was nothing left. You know why?"

"Don't," Gale snarled.

"Because you love her. You always have, haven't you?"

"Don't," Gale said again, quietly menacing.

"And she just doesn't feel the same way," Con let out a dramatic sigh. If I could have walked, I would have been over there in a heartbeat and beaten him to a pulp.

"It doesn't hurt me," Gale said. Now I realised he wasn't just telling his father. He was telling himself.

"I'm sure," Con said.

I really, truly, desperately wanted to punch him in the face.

"You know what does hurt me?" Gale asked.

Con remained silent.

"My father dying. Not once, but twice. And leaving me with nothing but burden."

"You're going to kill me Gale?" Con asked.

"That would be the third time. And I'm still deciding."

Gale kept the gun trained on his father, but stepped back to pull off Con's jacket. Guns, knives and instruments of torture tumbled out of the pockets as it lay crumpled on the floor. Gale kicked it away. Con stood waiting. His hands pressed to his sides, and Gale made sure he was hiding no other weapons.

"What I did was wrong." Con began.

Understatement of the year, I thought sourly as I shot daggers at Con.

"I left you alone. The man of the house."

"You deserted us," Gale said through gritted teeth, muscles in his neck twitching. "You left us with nothing. You let us think you were dead."

"I had to son,"

"Don't call me that," Gale seethed.

"The Capitol offered me security, a life of freedom. A life for all of you kids."

"Some life," Gale scoffed.

"I know now that you were treated unjustly. But you were never drafted for the Games,"

"No," Gale said.

"Even with the tesserae,"

"No," Gale repeated slowly, wondering what his father was getting at.

"That's because your name was never in the barrel. I made sure of it. I wanted you alive. I love you, son. I always have, I always will. You, your brothers, your mother…"

"Yeah," Gale smiled cruelly, "well Mom doesn't feel the same way."

"What are you talking about?" Con asked.

"Hazelle Hawthorne has a new beau." Gale smiled.

"Who?" Con's eyes grew wild and frantic. I had never seen him so panicked. It was almost enjoyable to see him in such agony.

"Why do you care? You're 'dead'." Gale said simply, inserting air quotes with his free hand.

"Because she's my wife and I love her."

"And she loves someone else."

"Who?"

"Haymitch Abernathy." The words floated out of Gale's mouth and were like pincers against Constantine's ears. He visibly flinched with every vowel, every syllable.

"No," Con breathed quietly.

"Yes," Gale smiled. "For about 6 months now."

That was news to even me. I scanned Gale's face for a hint of a bluff, but found nothing.

"Gale," Constantine's words were rushed, but they set me on edge. Like they were planned. Like he was orchestrating the conversation in his favour.

"Yeah?"

"Would you help me?"

"With what?" Gale asked dubiously.

"Get your mother back."

Gale barked a laugh. "Why would I do that?"

"So we can be a family again." Con said.

"Sorry, no deal," Gale said, cocking his head to the right. I knew that look. He was listening.

"Don't you want to have a life of security? Free from Peacekeepers, and hunting trips and hunger."

"Of course." Gale said. "Like that's ever going to happen."

"I'll make it happen," Con assured his son, the corner's of his mouth twisting into a smile. "We can get our family away from all this fighting and be together. You won't have to be the man of the house. You can just be yourself. No responsibilities. No worries. You can just live your life."

From the expression on Gale's face, an outside observer would swear he was bored. I knew better. He was interested. He was really interested.

"And how would I go about doing that?" Gale laughed. "Find some Magic Beans?"

"No," Con shook his head. "It's much simpler than that."

"Oh really? Do tell."

"Kill Katniss."

The room was devoid of air. Everyone was frozen, unable to move. My pulse quickened. The tension in the room was palpable.

The tension was broken by Gale's laughter.

"Are you crazy?" Gale asked.

Clinically, I agreed silently, but said nothing.

"Why would I kill Katniss?"

"She knows I'm alive. She can stop us from being together. Just one bullet is all it would take. Mellark would be broken. He wouldn't say a word. But Katniss? She's trouble. "

"I won't do it." Gale said adamantly.

"Gale, she's been a burden. Your whole life has been one big burden. Let me take some of it away. If you come with me, we can make life so much easier for you. I promise."

"No," Gale shook his head fiercely, his resolve breaking.

"You've had to look after everyone Gale: your mother, our family, and then Katniss and her family. That's a lot for one person to handle."

"Shut up," Gale said.

"You had to take care of everyone Gale. For once in your life, take care of yourself."

"I won't do it."

"It'll be quick Gale. It'll be painless. It's a merciful death. Much better than hunger. And you've kept them from hunger for years now."

"Yes, I have," Gale agreed quietly.

"I bet you even went without food so she and her family would get to eat." Con said quietly, sympathetically, insincerely.

"Yes, I did," Gale said quietly.

"So for once Gale, think of yourself. Think of our family. Think of happiness."

Gale's hand trembled, but he slowly began to pivot, turning towards me.

"Gale?" I asked quietly.

There were tears in his eyes. The gun still poised for the kill.

"Gale," I said more forcefully. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Gale hung his head.

He tightened his hold on the barrel.

Checked the safety was off.

"Gale," I screamed, "No!"

"I'm sorry Catnip."


	15. Bang

_**Bang.**_

_**A/N: Sorry. Had to do it. =P And thank you so much to my reviewers, and yes, the most frequent PK. :D **_

_**You guys are truly amazing, and make me feel wonderful on a daily basis. Peace and Love.**_


	16. Stop

I forced my eyes to stay open. If Gale was going to shoot me, he would deal with my reproachful glare staring back at him with dead eyes

Then I noticed the gun was in his left hand.

Gale's right hand was plunged deep into his coat pocket.

Before I had time to open my mouth, Gale had acted. Quick as a flash, he pulled his right hand out of his pocket and turned toward his father.

Thump.

Constantine Hawthorne fell to the ground, convulsing back and forth before falling from consciousness.

Gale stood over him, taser in hand.

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I had been holding. "Whoa Gale."

"What did you think you were doing?" Peeta was furious. I felt his muscle tremble from fury as the hand on my waist tightened around me. I gently touched his arm and smiled softly.

"It's okay, Peeta."

"It's not okay," Peeta said through gritted teeth, biting each word. ""He pulled a gun on you."

"I know."

"And you're okay with that?"

I said nothing, and tested my weight on my bad leg. I could hold myself up, just. I winced through the pain, and scolded myself for being weak. Now was not the time to thin about injuries. We had to think about getting out of the Capitol.

Gale stood over his father's limp body, staring blankly at the floor.

"Gale?" I said tentatively, trying not to spook him. He looked like a deer caught in the path of a bright light.

"Hmm?" He said, subconsciously acknowledging that someone had addressed him.

"We have to go," I said, pulling myself to my full height, but unable to hold the stance for too long. Peeta limped to the door to check for any oncoming guards. I noticed his injuries then, and I froze.

Peeta was bruised and beaten. New bruise marks, fresh from today's session, were slowly forming on his skin: his neck; his arms, his jaw; his eyes.

Then it hit me.

"Peeta? Why were you tied to a chair?"

He glanced over his shoulder to acknowledge me. "Oh, it was my weekly session."

"Weekly?"

"It was daily, for the first month or so. Then they realised that they needed me alive, so they slowed down on the beatings. But they upped the fury." he said with disdain. "It's like they build up to it now."

"Oh," I felt sick to my stomach. "And why were they keeping you alive?"

"So I could lead them to you. They tried to extract the information from me."

"And did they extract anything."

"A couple of teeth," he half-smiled, but there was pain in his eyes.

I was conflicted. I was relieved that we had found him, and that he would finally get away from here. But I was also angry. Angry that we had taken so long. Angry that he had endured so much.

I knew Peeta loved me.

I didn't know he loved me this much.

I shook my head, slicing through the fog, and turned my attention back to Gale.

"He' alive."

"I know," he mumbled.

"Do you want him to be?" I asked.

"I don't know."

"C'mon." I said, and pulled at Constantine's limp arms. I nearly fell from the weight and collapsed from the pain but I gritted my way through it.

"What are you doing?" Gale and Peeta asked simultaneously.

"Saving our asses." I growled. "One of you grab the damn rope."

"Note; Katniss curses through pain." Peeta mumbled.

"Shut up."

"She gets snarky too," Gale agreed and pulled a length of rope from Con's jacket.

"Again," I insisted. "Shut up. Now is not the time."

"Right," they said, together again. I would have joked that this was the first time they had agreed on something, but we had wasted enough time.

Gale and I tied his father to the chair. Drool collected in globules on Con's chin. His head hung limp, rolling around on his shoulders.

"He's out cold." Gale said.

"Good," I said. I turned my hip and with as much force as I could pull from my body, I thrust my fist into his face. There was a satisfying crunch as my fist sailed past his jaw and smashed into his nose, blood spurting out of it like waterfalls. I shook my hand and grunted from the pain.

"What was that for?" Gale asked, astonished.

"The kneecap." _The sweetheart too,_ I added silently, staring at him with disgust.

"You okay?"

"Better now. I've been dying to hit something."

"Or someone." Gale added.

"Exactly."

"There's somebody outside." Peeta called in a controlled quiet that reached us, but wouldn't alert any unexpected outsiders to our escape.

"Good." I said. "Now, get away from the door."

Peeta cocked an eyebrow but didn't question me. I stumbled forward and grabbed a gun from Con's jacket, checked it was loaded and tested its weight in my hand.

I listened intently, and there were three rushed knocks, followed slowly by another and a soft whistle. I whistled back and Bart and Lila burst through the door.

"There you are," Lila said, relieved.

"How did you know we were here?" Gale asked.

"This is the only door not open on this floor. And we picked up someone else on the way." Bart added.

"What? Who?" I was intrigued and nervous at the same time. Maybe they couldn't be trusted.

Turns out I was wrong, as they rounded the door."

"Cinna," the broken cry flew from my mouth, my voice full of emotion. I thought he was dead.

Cinna nodded and smiled but said nothing.

He couldn't.

"Oh no!" I felt sick.

He was an Avox now.

"Found him three doors down. He's an Avox."

"Poor thing," Lila added. Cinna sucked in a breath, shrugged and cocked his head.

"Someone's coming." Bart said, bustling into the room.

"We have to get out of here."

"Air vent." Gale and I said simultaneously.

Bart and Lila helped Cinna and Peeta into the vent. Bart followed them and helped Lila up. Gale and I were left in the room, alone. Con was still unconscious.

"So," Gale said. I couldn't stand the tension, so I just breathed slowly and looked Gale straight in the eyes.

"I'm sorry about what Con said."

"It doesn't matter." Gale said.

"It does," I argued, but there was still something nagged at me, like a slow circle grinding at the nape of my neck, constantly, sickeningly.

"Need a hand?" Gale asked, taking my arm and draping it over his shoulder. No hesitation. Always there to help me.

"You know," I said in a lighter tone than I would have thought possible. "For a second there, I thought you were actually going to shoot me."

"Yeah?" Gale said, helping me over to the vent. "For a second, so did I."


	17. Free

**We crawled, as best we could, through the vents until we were officially lost. **

**We were lined up like ants, perfectly uniform and hunched to fit through the squares. All along the path, the twists and turns, the separation from Peeta gnawed at me. After so long without him, it was like a revelation to finally be within touching distance from him; to fell his eyes bore into my soul; feel the heat of his skin and the prickling sensation vibrating through me wherever his skin grazed mine. My chest constricted as we crawled along. We were separated by Bart and Cinna, Lila took the lead. I longed to be in his arms again. It unnerved me. I never had this desire to be this close to someone, to be with them constantly. **

**I suppose that absence really does make the heart grow fonder. **

**The fact that he tried to hide his whimpers from the exertion of crawling may have played a part. My instincts kicking in.**

**Protect others, at all costs. **

**I wanted to protect him. **

"**Do we know where we're going?" Bart stage whispered. We each stalled in our tracks. Gale backed into my hind quarters, I inclined my head over my shoulder and quirked an eyebrow. He gave me an insincere apologetic smile and backed up a smidge. **

"**Right," Lila said, banging her head softly against the wall, soundlessly. "Katniss, you have the handheld?"**

**I felt around in my coat, in my belt, in my pockets, and grew frantic when I found nothing. **

"**Katniss?" Lila's whisper carried down to me. I shook my head apologetically and she smiled. **

"**Con took it," I hissed, fury bubbling up again as my knee throbbed. **

"**It's okay," she winked and pulled out a map. "We'll have to do this old school. Like the scouts say; always be prepared."**

"**What are scouts?" Peeta and I asked simultaneously. I fit neatly into the vent, but the others were having more problems. They were too broad to fit comfortably. **

**Except for Peeta. **

**It actually hurt to see how emaciated he had become. His collarbone was visible beneath his shirt lapels, his ribs, which from his muffled groans may have been broken, mist have been sticking out because his shirt was hanging off him like it was a marquee. **

**He needed to get out of here. **

**I needed to punish someone for what they had done to him. **

**It seems we were at an impasse.**

**Lila guided us along the routes, taking lefts and rights and ups and downs until every move blurred into one haze of silver. **

"**Finally," she said, louder than before. "We're free."**

"**Don't count on it," Gale murmured. **

**Lila propped an elbow up and thrust it into a large metal pane above her head. Five clanks, and numerous groans and profanities later, and sunlight poured over us as the hatch flew open. Lila pulled herself free and helped Peeta, Cinna and Bart out. I pulled myself free, and fell on the rooftop, swallowing down the pain. It would not relent, but I was learning to live with it. Gale pulled himself out in one quick motion and offered me a hand up from the ground. **

"**Thanks," I breathed, popping myself up with one elbow and grabbing his hand with the other. Gale shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and grabbed a knife from his belt. He sliced open the arms and ripped up pieces. He propped my arm over his shoulders, I was too weak to protest, and sat me on the ledge. The height was dizzying, but after falling though the air, nothing could faze me. Gale set about wrapping up my leg, using two arrows as a tourniquet, like I had done to Peeta during our Games-the one's that tied us to each other forever. **

"**There," Gale said, standing straight and proud, squinting against the harsh sunlight before he brought his hand to his eyes. "That should work until we get back to the others. One of the Medics should be able to help you. It's not like I'm an expert."**

"**It's great, Gale, thank you."**

"**It's not a problem."**

**Gale cast a look over his shoulder. **

"**Look. We have some time. I think there's someone here who wants to see you. Can you stand?"**

**I tested my weight on my leg. The arrow tops acted as stabilisers. **

"**Thank you." I said, lightly grazing his arm but revoking it before it stayed too long. After everything, I knew that I couldn't lead him on, even unconsciously. It wasn't fair to anyone. **

**Peeta was sitting on the ledge opposite is, drinking in the sunshine. He saw me and smiled brightly. To me, it was brighter than sunshine. **

"**Hey you," he said.**

"**Hi," I felt entirely uncomfortable. Peeta just rolled his eyes, grabbed my right hand, and brought it to his lips. Very softly, he brushed his lips against my knuckles, against every bruised and bloodied gnarl on my hand. I sucked in a breath and felt shocks running up and down my arm. I shuddered slightly, but kept my poker face, even if I couldn't meet his gaze full. I focused on his lips, so it would seem like I was making eye contact. **

**It was a mistake. **

**Peeta smirked. "Kitty-Kat, you're going red."**

"**Shut up," I huffed, "and don't call me that again, or I'll throw you back to the Capitol." **

"**Touchy," he teased. "I think it fits you perfectly. What are we waiting for anyway?"**

"**The signal."**

"**What signal?" he asked. **

"**After I send the arrow sailing over to the next building attached to the rope and flag, the others will message back with another one."**

"**Right," Peeta said slowly, staring at me while I watched his mouth. **

"**Katniss?" **

"**Yeah?"**

"**Are you going to shoot an arrow or stare at me all day?"**

"**Do you want more injuries?" I grabbed tow bows and the rope with a flag and pulled my small bow from my back. Two seconds later I took aim and my arrow soared through the air and into the next building. **

**Three minutes later, the others signal came back fast and clear. **

"**Okay, they're coming."**

"**Yeah," Peeta and I shared a look, and a bolt of desire burned through my veins. **

**Peeta waggled his eyebrows. "You know, I think finding you after all this time deserve some sort of celebration." **

**I laughed. "Finding me?"**

"**Finding you, breaking free. It's all I've dreamed about, all I've thought about. All I've wanted."**

**Peeta stood up and wrapped his arms around me. I breathed in his scent, committing it to memory. **

"**What kind of celebration do you have in mind?" I asked, surprised by the flirty tone in my voice. Peeta smiled while I frowned from embarrassment. **

"**Nothing too sordid…yet," he winked. "Just a kiss."**

**He bent down his head and kissed my forehead, and I shivered. He kissed my temples and then kissed the tip of my nose. He grew closer and closer **

**The rooftop door rattled and shook. Gale, Bart and Lila stood, armed and dangerous, and equipped Cinna with a gun. **

**I stepped away, pulled out a gun and stood in front of Peeta. Lila threw a gun his way, which he caught with fumbling fingers. **

"**If we make it out of here alive," I said, propping the gun to eyelevel and focusing on the door. "I'll give you a **_**real**_** homecoming."**

**The door burst open.**

**And all hell broke loose. **


	18. Leap

There was a barrage of bullets flying around the rooftop, from both sides: good and evil; Us and Them.

I knocked out three guards, bullets flying haphazardly. Peeta shot the gun, but the backlash caught him off guard and he smacked himself in the face. He stumbled and I grabbed hold of his shirt with my free hand to steady him.

"You okay?" I asked, eyeing another guard who was closing in on Gale's back and shooting him in the shoulder.

"Yeah," he called, breathless. "But we need to get out of here."

"No!" Gale screamed, and shot another guard in the knee cap before rushing to Lila's side. She had been badly wounded. Cinna issued a kill shot to the perpetrator.

Bart was caught in hand to hand combat with one of the guards, before he sneaked a peek over at the ruckus. Gale held Lila's head in his hands, while she slowly began to drift away.

Everyone was stalled, as Bart pulled away to help his wife.

"No," he fell to his knees and held her hand in his. He bent down to kiss her forehead and she smiled weakly through the pain.

"It's time for me to go," she said softly.

"No, you can't," Bart sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You promised me. You can't leave me."

"It's not like I have a choice." Her chest heaved up and down, her breathing getting heavier as the red blossom of blood expanded across her chest.

Cinna was occupied with two other guards. I was shooting left and right to keep them away from Peeta and me. Gale backed away to help Cinna, but Bart was left defenceless, only concerned about Lila.

"Be good," Lila winked, "I love you,"

"I love you too," Bart said, kissing every available part of her face. "Please don't leave me."

I saw it, I couldn't stop it.

A guard pulled up behind Bart. I pointed my pistol towards him and pulled.

Click Click Click.

No more ammo.

"Bart!" The strangled cry broke from my lips.

He couldn't hear me. Lila was gone.

"Don't leave me." he cried.

"Don't worry," the guard said, cocking the gun against Bart's temple. "You'll be together soon."

Bang.

Bart's form crumpled, and I felt empty inside. Hollow. I wanted to break free from whatever force field had me rooted in place, but I was stuck; unable to move.

The guard aimed his gun at me, and everyone stood still. Everyone was caught. Bart and Lila lay dead in one another's arms. Gale and Cinna were captured, and Peeta and I were caught like rats in a trap.

"Well, well, well," the guard smirked, grabbing his radio. "Look at what we have here. Sir, she's here. You were right. She would come for Mellark. Come to the roof immediately."

The guard popped his radio back in his pocket and narrowed his eyes.

"You know," he mused. "I always hoped I would be the one who would find you. To be able to turn you in to Snow. You irritated me during the Games. I lost quite a bit of money on you. Then you had to pull that stunt with the berries. Why wouldn't you just die?"

_I should be dead,_ I thought.

"Well, now I get my revenge. We will have order, we will have power…."

He exploded in front of me.

I gasped as blood and brain matter showered me, dribbling from my hairline and sliding off my clothes.

"I never did like long speeches." My father said, shouldering his gun.

Finnick had taken out the guards holding Cinna and Gale hostage, while I was busy learning to breath again.

"Thanks," I said.

"And you must be Peeta Mellark." Dad said, extending his had. Peeta held up a hand to stall him for a moment, turned around and began dry heaving over the roof ledge.

I brushed some of the guard's cerebral cortex off my forehead and shook it away.

"Sorry," Peeta said. "That wasn't how I imagined meeting….Hey, aren't you meant to be dead?"

"Long story," My dad and I said simultaneously.

"We have to get out of here," Peeta said hurriedly. "Snow and his cronies are coming."

"Excellent," my father said. "We can finish this."

"Reed," Finnick called, "he's coming."

"Thanks Odair." Dad took his spare revolver out of its holster, flipped out the barrel, loaded it, closed it and spun it around his forefinger.

"Let's get this over with."

"We have to get Peeta out of here," I said. "I'm pretty sure he's broken a couple of ribs. He's not able to fight."

"That's not true," Peeta protested. I poked him in the side and he cried out in pain, doubled over.

"See?"

"I wish I could hate you," Peeta said between wheezes.

"Yeah, good luck with that," I said.

Gale shut the door again and pulled the dead away from sight.

"Bart and Lila are dead."

"I can see that," Dad hung his head. "It's a loss. They were good people."

"They were great people."

"He's coming," Finnick called. Gale was searching around the rooftop, growing frantic, and I searched around too. Something was off. It hit me like lightning. Gale and I stopped, stared at each other and fear shuddered through me.

"Where's Madge?" We asked together.

Dad and Finnick remained silent, not daring to meet our eyes.

"No," My eyes grew wide. I felt sick. Physically sick. It was like the roof had split in half and I was falling again, falling eternally, and would come crashing into the ground. Peeta wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and whole it was comforting, it couldn't make up for the loss.

Gale, however, was inconsolable.

"No!" he screamed, grabbing Finnick by his shirt collar and shaking him. "No, she can't be gone."

"I'm sorry. We were compromised at the air site. We were grabbing an aircraft, that one." they pointed to the helicopter they had landed at the far end of the roof. "When we were attacked. We got away, and she was getting on board, but one of the guards grabbed her and pulled her from the doors. I tried to hold on, I really did…"

"You did?" Gale breathed.

"They were too strong. She let go. She stayed and fought. We couldn't go back for her. She fought valiantly. She…"

Finnick's words were cut off when Gale's fist went flying into his face.

"You," he cried, pummelling Finnick over and over. "You let her go. You promised me she would be safe, and you let her go."

"Gale," I called.

"No," he cried. I had never seen Gale this frantic, this broken. "You don't know. You weren't around. You were a zombie. She was all I had. She understood. She helped me, she challenged me. That time when we kissed…"

"You kissed?"

Gale carried on. "It was like…something inside me moved. And I think she felt the same way. Of course then you woke up from you zombie land, and walked in. But after I found out about your dad, and I thought mine was dead, she comforted me again. She was such a good friend. She was the best. Madge can't be…" he swallowed. "She's too good, too…"

"You really liked her didn't you?" Gale said nothing in response.

The door rattled once or twice. Our siren.

"We will get them for this," I told Gale. "I promise."

"We better," he seethed, gritting his teeth.

"We have to get out of here," I said quietly to Peeta. We have no ammo, and we're injured."

"We have nowhere to go," Peeta swallowed. "Katniss, whatever happens, just know that…"

I interjected. "Do you trust me?"

"What?" Peeta blinked his incredibly long eyelashes.

"Do you trust me?" I asked again, staring deeply into his eyes, wrapping my arms around him.

"With my life." he said earnestly.

"Then hold on." I said, before throwing us both off the ledge.


	19. Fall

I held on to Peeta with a death grip, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms securely held him to my chest. His eyes were squeezed shut as we fell the first hundred feet. His lips moved silently as we grew closer to the ground. The same words over and over again.

Katniss.

I made sure we were together, burying my face against his neck and balling my fists into his shirt, waiting for the pull. We fell faster and faster, and nothing happened. My stomach plummeted and fear enveloped me. I raised my face from Peeta's neck and opened my eyes. The windows blurred past us; spectrums of colour whirring past our eyes on our descent.

Still, there was no pull.

"Peeta," I said softly, while my skin was being pulled back from my face with the force of the speed we plummeted.

His eyes remained tightly closed.

"Peeta, look at me!" I screamed, holding him even tighter.

He wrenched his eyes open. That was all I wanted. One last beautiful image before I died.

It wasn't enough.

I wanted more.

I wanted a lifetime of those images.

I pulled his face to mine and crushed my lips against his, hungrily. His arms wrapped even more firmly around me as he kissed me back.

And then we were flying.

Literally.

The jolt sent us soaring about 50 feet up into the air, from our position of twenty feet above the ground.

We began to descend, more slowly this time, but still wrapped like knots in one another's arms; so tangled that it was hard to know where I ended and he began.

The force of the jolt had broken our lips apart, and Peeta began to slip from my grasp from the shock. I grabbed so hard that my fingernails penetrated skin, blood oozing out under his shirt, and Peeta clambered to tighten his grip on my back.

Ten feet from the ground, and my heart started to pump at a reasonable rate. I looked up and saw the Helicopter leaving. They had Snow. They were taking him to the rendezvous point.

Our problem was how were _we _going to get there unseen?

Peeta and I fell to the ground, not at all gracefully, and scrambled into standing positions, wincing from our various injuries, before darting into the alleyway to recuperate.

"You okay?" I said through pants. Falling two hundred feet can really take the wind out of you.

"I've been better," he coughed, leaning back against the red brick wall of the neighbouring building.

"Bungee jacket," I said simply.

"I see that."

"You didn't flinch," I said pulling myself up to full height and sidling closer to him.

"I told you," he smiled," I trust you."

I half-smiled, but my mind was reeling. We had to find a way out of here. Dad and Raymond, from District 13's headquarters, had given me a crash course in driving planes, trains and automobiles, so I was pretty confident that we would be able to get out of here. I hadn't counted on the busted leg, but thanks to Gale's quick fix tourniquet, I could battle through.

"Do you see any way out of here?" I asked Peeta.

"No," he said solemnly, "not without being seen at least. We'll have to remain as inconspicuous as possible. After all, we're famous."

"More like infamous."

"That's true," Peeta pushed himself away from the wall and pressed against me. I felt my breath hitch in my chest.

"About that kiss…" he said seductively, leaning forward so that his breath tickled my nose and sent my synapses snapping.

"Now is not the time Peeta," I said, pushing him away, albeit regretfully. All I wanted to do was lie in his arms, and wrap myself around him, kissing every available part of him. I was filled with desire, and it set me on edge. I never had these feelings before; this was all new to me. I craved his lips as I watched them.

Three months without him. It was all culminating in these feelings.

The realisation that I had fallen in love with him fuelled the fire burning inside me.

But we were in a war zone.

Now was not the time for hormones.

"I'm hungry," Peeta said.

"For me or for food?"

"Both." he smirked.

"Okay, there's a car coming. We can creep behind it. Then we _really _need to get out of here. They'll have food at the meeting point."

"Would a helicopter help with that?" Peeta asked.

"It would be perfect. Unless you can draw one and make it come to life though, I think we're out of options."

"How about wishing?" he asked.

"Peeta, stop joking. We need to get out of here."

"Seriously, Katniss. I want you to wish for it."

"Why?"

"Just do it!" Peeta laughed.

"Why?" I asked again, gritting my teeth. As much as I loved him, and I'm pretty sure words couldn't define it, I had limited patience and we were very likely to be murdered right at that moment. His games were irritating.

"Humour me?" he said, pulling his best puppy-dog face and batting his eyelashes, before taking my hands in his. That connection sparked between us again, and my throat grew dry.

I closed my eyes.

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth, keeping my eyes shut so I wouldn't see his smug expression. He'd been beaten enough today. I didn't want to add to his injuries, but I might not be able to control myself.

"I wish we had a helicopter," I said condescendingly.

"One more time with feeling," Peeta said. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"I wish we had a helicopter," I said again.

"Third time's lucky,"

"I wish we had a helicopter!" I practically yelled, breaking my hands away from his and throwing them down to my sides.

_Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh._

My eyes shot open, and Peeta's grin split his face in two.

A helicopter bounced overhead. I ducked my head, but Peeta turned me around and pointed. There was a flag hanging out the window.

A white flag.

With a mockingjay emblazoned on it.

"You saw it coming didn't you?" I accused him.

He smiled slyly and shrugged. "I couldn't resist. You're so cute when you're frustrated."

"Well, I must be adorable now."

"Breathtakingly beautiful. Like always." he said, kissing the crown of my head.

Sometimes, I wished I could hate him. Things would be so much simpler.

But I love him too much.

A ladder rolled out of the hatch and I helped Peeta on to the step and followed suit. We were pulled up to the hatch and the helicopter began to veer to the right, throwing us both in to the hub.

"Hello, Sweetheart,"

"Haymitch?" Peeta and I exclaimed. The door rammed closed behind us.

"No autographs please," he smirked.

"Good to see you Peeta" he said, laying a hand on Peeta's shoulder as he sat down and squeezing it. I frowned at the gesture but said nothing. Peeta didn't hold grudges, but I did. I still didn't forgive him for abandoning him.

"What are you doing here, Haymitch?" I asked, trying and failing to keep the bitterness from my tone.

"I thought I could pick some of you stragglers. I grabbed a car and high-tailed it to the city. Good thing too, or it might have been too late."

"For what?"

"I couldn't abandon my daughter now, could I?"

Daughter?

"Daughter?" Peeta asked, reading my mind. "What daughter?"

"She's out cold back there. She put up a hell of a fight."

There was nothing but love and admiration in his stone grey eyes. He sneaked a looked over the seat and his expression grew softer than I had ever seen it. My curiosity took hold and I looked too.

I gasped.

"Madge?"


	20. Truth

She was barely recognisable. Her blonde locks, which were envied by many, were a rusty shade of brown thanks to the overflow of blood leaking from the back of her skull. Her face was bruised and bloody, and her chest fluttered back and forth, like a butterfly's wing. Her clothes were ripped and torn and blood seemed to seep out of every nook and cranny.

But it was her.

"You should see the other guys," Haymitch said. There was nothing but unadulterated pride in his voice. I slowly turned my head in his direction, sure that any moment he would say "Ha, just messing with you kid."

He didn't.

"I don't understand."

"No offence sweetheart, but what you don't know could fill entire libraries."

"Shut up," I hissed. "Is this some sort of sick joke?"

"Why would I joke about something like that?"

"Haymitch, would you mind explaining, because it's kind of a lot to take in ten minute after nose diving off a building." Peeta rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and fore finger, trying to wrap his head around the news. I was still in the denial phase. He was closer to acceptance.

"I'm not surprised that Katniss' head looks like it'll explode." Haymitch said, leaning his head over the jump seat.

"I can't believe she never told me," I said in disbelief.

"That's because she doesn't know. Nobody does. Except for you two. And I'd like to keep it that way, capische?"

"Right," Peeta nodded at Haymitch to continue the story. Despite my feelings of pure hatred for Haymitch for betraying Peeta and lying to me, he had slightly redeemed himself by saving Madge. I still couldn't believe she survived. She was stronger than anyone could have known.

"Let's start from the beginning, shall we?"

"We don't need the graphic details," I groaned.

"Wow, you're still a prude." Haymitch snorted. Peeta held me down on the seat to stop me from breaking his nose. He knows me.

"Get on with it Haymitch," I said, face burning from anger and from embarrassment. I didn't want to think about Haymitch naked. It would be enough to give me nightmares.

"Okay, kids, here's the pg version of this.

After the Quell, the 50th-My Games- I was in pretty bad shape. Maysilee had helped me in the arena, and I had watched her die in my arms. I knew I wanted the Capitol gone. They had to pay for torturing us, for torturing all the districts and the kids. But I was 17; I couldn't start a revolution without any help. I became a recluse. I kept myself to myself and lived alone in the Victor's village, throwing knives at walls. Every year another two tributes would come to me, and every year I would watch them die. It was hard. For the few years, I could hardly bear it. But one person helped me. She came to me after I got back from the Games, but I didn't want to speak to her. I hadn't saved her sister. I didn't want to deal with her heartbreak, her fury at my incompetence. After a while, she stopped knocking on my door.

Then, 5 years later, she came back.

I remember opening the door and finding her there; blonde hair, log legs and the bluest eyes I had ever seen.

"Maryse." I invited her in, decided to accept whatever punishment she had in store for me. I wanted her forgiveness, even if I would never forgive myself. I expected a barrage of insults, and welcomed them willingly. What she said next, however, I never would have guessed.

'_I'm Maysilee. And I need your help.'_

"What?" Peeta and I exclaimed simultaneously. Our cries were so loud that the driver lost concentration and veered off to the left suddenly before steadying the copter. Then I noticed a uniform, similar to the co-pilots.

"Haymitch, are those guards?"

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "They defected from the Capitol. They're on our side."

"Right."

"Can I get on with my story now?"

"Who's stopping you?" I asked. He expected an apology. I sure as hell wasn't going to give him one.

"As it turns out, it was in fact Maysilee. But she had never been in the games."

"I don't get it," Peeta said and Haymitch narrowed his eyes. It hit me like a flash and I understood.

"They were identical." I started slowly, as every piece fit into place. "We saw the video. She was like her mirror image. The tributes meet with their families before they leave, their last chance to say goodbye. So…" I gasped.

"Maryse Donner, not Maysilee, died in the Games."

"But…why?" Peeta was stunned. I couldn't blame him. "It doesn't make sense. Why would she take her place?"

"Maryse had more hand to hand experience. She had learned how to shoot when she was young. The Donner's father was a hunter. Not the illegal kind. He and other prestigious members of the community would get together to shoot birds and other things of that nature. Maysilee had never liked to go, she detested blood and violence, but Maryse had a keen shot. As you saw from the games. She was also a dab hand at knots. Also a very handy skill."

"Right, but…"

"I'm getting to it." Haymitch waved a hand impatiently. "Maysilee wouldn't let her sister take her place, but Maryse would not take no for an answer. She was stubborn. Just like her sister. Just like our daughter." he smiled softly at Madge's curled up form. "Maryse knocked her sister out, and took her place. The rest of the family had left the room to allow them time to say goodbye. They though 'Maryse' had collapsed from emotion. Really, she was out cold."

"Wow," I could relate to her, and felt a certain pang of heartbreak and understanding. After all, my sister had been called into the games. I wouldn't have let her go, not in an instant. I wanted to protect her."

"Was Maryse older than Maysilee?" I asked.

"Yes, she was," Haymitch quirked an eyebrow. "By six minutes. How did you know that?"

Because I was an older sister too. I knew what it was like, how you protect your siblings at all costs.

You protect them, because you have to.

"A good guess." I shrugged, and Haymitch carried on.

"Of course, I had no idea, and we bonded over or mutual hatred of the capitol and how we were both racked with guilt. Like me, she wanted the war to be over. But we weren't naïve. We knew that we had to prepare, to get reinforcements. We met secretly for weeks, planning our attacks. Weeks turned into months, months turned into years, and before I knew it, I had fallen madly in love with her."

Haymitch's eyes brimmed tears and he stared out the window at the setting sun, trying to hide his emotions. I could relate.

I hated him a little less.

"It turns out she felt the same way. We were recruiting others form different districts. I had other winners on hand, and Maysilee faked an illness and had to be taken through the districts on the train whenever we left. Her excuse was migraines, which she did actually suffer from, but she exaggerated the symptoms. She was able to navigate her way through the different districts, which proved vital to expanding the rebellion.

One night, we met at my house, deep in the night. She arrived under a long black cloak, her face hidden by a large hood. She swept it back and I couldn't stop staring. I remember…" he smiled, caught in the moment, "Oh, I remember just being in that moment, and how I felt when I was around her. Like I wasn't broken, and neither was she. We bonded over our mutual heartbreak. We weren't just two broken people. It was like we could make one whole person. I grabbed her by the doorway and pulled her inside. Oh, she was shocked. I wasn't surprised. I don't really show my feelings, and she never suspected I felt that way. The same way she did. I grabbed her, pulled her to me and kissed her like my life depended on it. Because it did. My life depended on her. Because she owned it. Everything, from then on, was all for her.

Two years later, everything changed.

That was when she met the Mayor. I read the announcement in the paper one Sunday morning. I smashed just about every glass in the house. No one knew that we were together. It was safer that way. For her and for the rebellion. But it was like someone had stuck me with a knife and kept on twisting. Ice ran through my veins. That night I barged over to her house, snuck in her window and confronted her. I was heartbroken. I never thought I would feel like that….like…"

"You were empty," I whispered softly. "Like nothing mattered. Like you were just going through the motions in your everyday life."

"Exactly," Haymitch said. "That's exactly what it's like.

_I know,_ I thought, _that's how I felt when I lost Peeta._

"I grabbed her and she pushed me away.

'_What's going on?_' I challenged her, trying to keep my voice down. She still lived with her parents. It was the perfect cover.

'_I'm sorry' _she said. I crumpled up the paper and threw it on her bed.

'_I thought you cared about me? I thought you felt the same way…'_

'_I did…_' she said '_I do._' She grabbed my hands and held my gaze.

'_The how can you do this? If you felt like I do, you would never do this to me,_' I was crying. I never cried. I didn't think I was capable.

'_Because I have to.'_

'_You don't have to do anything. If you want to back out of this, then just say it. Don't just wuss out.'_

'_I'm not wussing out' _she was so angry. She was shaking. I opened the latch on her window and climbed out.

'_Haymitch, wait'_

'_Why are you doing this?_' I asked.

'_I'm doing this for our baby._'

I was frozen, and not just because of the cold night air. I climbed back into the house.

'_Our what?'_

'_Our baby_,' she said, tears streaming down her face. '_You know I want nothing that just to be with you, I love you.'_ Every word was like a dagger. It was more painful than anything I had felt in the arena. I started to cry uncontrollably and she held me in her arms.

'_You understand why I have to do this.'_

I nodded, even though I wished it didn't have to be that way. If anyone found out Madge was our daughter, she would be drafted into the games. No doubt about it. The Capitol is sadistic and cruel. The fact that I had used their arena against them meant that they would punish me. And what better way than to kill my daughter?

That was our last night together. After that, we had to part ways. It was safer for her, for Madge. Two weeks later, she was married, 7 months later, Madge was born. I tried to stay away, but I couldn't help myself. I had to know her. She was my daughter. She's my daughter." he said with more warmth than I ever thought I would hear from Haymitch Abernathy's usually foul mouth.

"That's when I started drinking. Well, drinking more heavily. There are years that are just drunken hazes. You think I'm bad now, you should have seen me then.

One day, when I was on the way to get some more white liquor, I stumbled into her. I was so shocked that I jus stood there, staring at her. She didn't cry; she didn't run away. She just cocked her head and asked '_who are you?'_

She was every inch our daughter. She had Maysilee's looks, and my cocky attitude.

I decided then I had to know her.

I started giving her throwing lesson at the age of nine. She was a quick study and I loved her more everyday. On her twelfth birthday, I got her her own butterfly knife. She took a couple of people out with it today," Haymitch smiled broadly.

"I don't get this," I said, "Why did you let her come. It was your say so that took her to the Capitol in the first place."

"You really think she would have stayed?" Haymitch laughed gruffly. "You don't think she would have snuck on board? It was better to have her where we could see her. And she can take care of herself. I knew Finnick and Reed would look after her too. But they left her," he growled. "I'll get them for that."

"So she really doesn't know?"

"Not a thing, not even when the 74th games were coming."

"What do you mean?" I asked. My hairs stood on end and an artic chill slipped through my spine.

"Haven't you worked it out Katniss?" Haymitch was actually dubious.

"What?"

"You're known as the Mockingjay?"

"Yeah?" I said slowly.

"But who made you that?"

I thought slowly back to that day, the day that changed everything. Madge had given me a token. The Mockingjay.

"No!" I cried, clasping my hands over my mouth in shock.

"Madge was the true Mockingjay," he said solemnly. "She was prepared. She expected it."

I remembered meeting Madge that morning. All dressed up.

Oh no.

"She overheard me talking about the rebellion one morning with her mother after her knife lesson. She understood that action needed to be taken. Maysilee had grown addicted to the Morphling she had used as a disguise, turned to it like I had turned to liquor," his expression grew dark. "So Madge said she would enter the games. She was small. Pretty. Blonde. She had a guileless face. She could incite outrage, scandal, heartbreak if she did not win.

The night before the reaping, I couldn't let her go.

"No!" I screamed. Peeta grabbed my shoulders, but his eyes grew dark and he stared at Haymitch vehemently.

"You did this to me?" I screamed.

"Not you," he shook his head. "Prim,"

I actually felt sick. Peeta's grip on me tightened, but I saw his fist curl into a ball as he, too, struggled to remain calm.

"You put my sister's name in the bowl."

"Before, it was all Madge. The night before, I switched out the names and put Prim's in instead."

"But why?"

"To see what you would do."

My blood ran still.

"What?" It was quiet, but Haymitch actually flinched form the venom in my tone.

"We needed someone strong. You were the huntress from the woods. Everyone had seen you in action. You had a younger sister. I had to see if you were strong enough."

I understood.

"If I was like Maryse?"

He nodded solemnly.

"We're landing," the guard called from the controls.

A fist went flying into Haymitch's face when we landed on the ground.

Surprisingly, it wasn't mine.

Haymitch fell to the floor, tenderly touching his bruised jaw. Peeta spat on him.

"How dare you?" he hissed. "You used her. She was just a pawn to you. A plaything."

"And If I hadn't," Haymitch spat out a tooth and a hunk of blood. "You'd be dead right now, and we wouldn't have Snow."

Peeta and I left the helicopter and entered the warehouse.

"Nice punch," I said quietly. Peeta turned me around to face him and his eyes were so filled with anger that it almost made me breathless.

"I won't let anyone use you again, Katniss. I would do anything, everything, to protect you."

"I know," I said.

He grabbed me in his arms and pulled me to his chest.

"I know," I repeated quietly.

I felt the same way.

I wasn't the original Mockingjay.

But I was the Mockingjay now.

And we were about to end the rebellion.

Or die trying.


	21. Deal

Peeta and I slipped in through the large metal door, pulling it gently closed behind us, a sliver of sunlight escaping through the doorjamb.

The others were lined in a semicircle, staring vehemently at the man strapped to a chair in the centre of the room.

President Snow, in all his glory.

Finnick, my father and Cinna each had guns poised and ready to kill, while Gale circled the chair every so often, eyes cold and fists bloody.

President Snow's eyes were bulging out of his head, but he remained utterly calm, even when Gale placed a well aimed fist into his gut.

"Answer the damn question," he growled. Snow's eyes rolled back into his head, his already surgically swollen lip beginning to blush from former bruises and a split lip. When his eyes finally settled into place, he was immediately drawn to my approaching figure.

"Well, well, well, Ms. Everdeen. I would say it's a pleasure to see you again, but I think we both know that's not true."

"Hello, Snow." I said, holding his gaze as we joined the inner circle surrounding him, my hand clasped in Peeta's. I didn't want to let him go, and the feeling was mutual.

"Oh, and Mr. Mellark too," he laughed. "How delightful."

Peeta said nothing. Just stared blankly and emotionlessly at his withered form. I studied Snow from where I stood, taking in every inch of him with a calculated eye.

He looked different. Different from when he had sipped tea from the finest china in our now disintegrated house and I had caught a whiff of his blood-tainted breath. Different from when he had shook his head and informed me that my attempts to prove that I convincingly loved Peeta failed miserably. Even different to his strong and confident stance as he pulled the task from the Quarter Quell from the box, and the relish in his voice as he announced that former winners were going back into the ring.

His face was thinner, his eyes were dull and lifeless and his skin had taken on an unhealthy greyish pallor.

But his sadistic smile still remained plastered across his vile, surgically enhanced face.

"You know," he mused, his eyes shining, albeit less so than when I first met him, "now you've convinced me."

My gaze flickered to Peeta's face, studying his profile momentarily before focusing on our captive again.

"Shame it's too late." Snow laughed humourlessly. "Maybe we wouldn't have had to go through all this…unpleasantness."

"You know what else is unpleasant?" Gale stopped behind President Snow's chair and bent so that his lips were only inches from his ear. "The heel of my boot crushing into your pelvic bone."

"Oh, tut tut, young Gale," Snow smiled. "No need to take out your pent up frustration on me. It must be killing you…to see her here with him…."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard this spiel before. Not too long ago actually. So, if you don't mind…" Gale rounded the corner of the chair and Snow groaned from the pain as Gale thrust his leg into his torso.

"I changed my mind," Gale narrowed his eyes. "I'll leave the pelvic bone for later."

"Fantastic," Snow grunted. "Looking forward to it."

I exhaled disbelievingly. Snow suffered blow after blow, and he still kept quiet, refusing to grovel. Gale sucked in a deep breath to calm himself. His hands were trembling at his sides, shaking from frustration.

"God," he groaned.

"Take a break Gale," My father said, placing an arm on Gale's shoulder with his free hand and squeezing it appreciatively.

"No," Gale shook his head, "Just let me help…"

"Gale, you've done enough," my dad said more firmly.

"No," Gale said, his voice breaking from emotion. "I need to do something…please, just let me do something.

"You've done enough," Dad said again, putting as much emphasis in his tone as possible.

"Not enough," Gale said, hanging his head. He kept his gaze trained on the cement floor of the warehouse. I looked down on the ground and saw several small wet splotches falling at his feet.

It took me a moment to realise they were his tears.

My stomach turned at the thought of Gale so broken. I had never, in the entire time I had known him, seen him shed a tear. Of course he wanted to be the one to use corporal punishment on Snow. He used violence as a coping mechanism. He projected his inner turmoil and sadness on others, forcing his pain onto others. What did I expect really? His dad was alive, and working for the one thing he hated most in this world, he had manipulated him, wormed his way into his mind and almost forced him to kill me, his best friend. To top all that, the girl he thought he loved was with someone else, and the girl he was growing to love was dead.

At least, he thought so.

Of course he was going a little crazy.

Gale turned around to hide his face from us all and wiped it discreetly by rubbing his face and jerking his hands through his hair in one swift movement. I was about to tell him about Madge, how she had survived and was out cold outside, when the sound of footsteps outside distracted me.

The door of the warehouse creaked open and Haymitch and the two guards ambled in, leaving a large gap in the door way. No one bothered to tell them to shut it. We were all too captivated by Snow.

He was laughing.

"What's so funny?" Finnick asked, his sea-green eyes slits of fury from staring at Snow.

"You," Snow snickered, "All of you. You're all so….naïve."

"Naïve?" Haymitch guffawed, sidling in close to me. I automatically flinched and Peeta's hand griped mine even tighter, to reassure me but also to control him self. He pulled me closer to him and we edge our way out of the circle, making way for the guards and pulling back, watching from a back seat view.

"Yes," Snow smiled and I felt like tracker-jackers were burrowing underneath my skin, trying to break free. "Absolutely and pathetically naïve."

"Right," Haymitch rolled his eyes. "We have you strapped to a chair, right where we want you, no chance of escape…"

"Oh, I'll escape." Snow's eyes narrowed and creased from his smile.

"Now who's naïve?" Haymitch laughed.

"Still you," Snow smirked.

My patience, and everyone's around me, was growing thin. My dad held up his hands and motioned everyone to quiet down.

"Right, enough of this," he said, "Let's get down to business."

"I wholeheartedly agree…It's Reed, isn't it? You and you daughter are so alike. You're both alive, when you're supposed to be dead."

My dad didn't rise to the bait. "Snow, this can go smoothly, and if you do as we request, we will let you go, no harm done."

Haymitch snorted and my dad fixed him with a venomous glare. "No harm done."

Haymitch shrugged. "Fine,"

"You will end the hunger games. The Peacekeepers initiative will be dissolved and corporal punishment will be annihilated. Panem will be a democracy, with a set of rules and laws for basic human rights. If you adhere to these conditions, we will let you go. Do you agree?"

"No," Snow smiled. The request seemed reasonable, and would not be impossible to achieve but Snow was blatantly in denial if he thought he would get away without any sort of compromise on his part.

There would be no compromise on the fate of the Games. Enough people had died; the chaos had to end.

"No?" Dad said in mock surprise. He already knew he would have to break Snow's defences before any real progress was made. He really was abusing the "good cop" angle.

But I knew it wouldn't work. I could see it in Snow's eyes.

"Try all your tricks, Reed, they won't work. And soon, you'll all be dead and this whole mess will just be another stain on the fabric of my life," he sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a good dry cleaner to get that out."

"See sense Snow. If you don't agree, you won't get out of here alive?"

"You think this ends with me?" Snow's smile was unnerving. "I'm flattered, truly. But I'm just one man."

"One man can change the world." I said, automatically thinking of Peeta. His words could disarm entire armies, like it had disarmed all my barriers.

"Ah, Katniss, I never knew you were such an optimist. How pathetic."

"He's not going to see reason," I said to no one in particular.

"Now, there's a girl with some sense." Haymitch agreed. The sound of his voice made me see red, my mind growing hazy. I knew what was happening. I was about to have a rage black out.

Peeta lowered his lips to my ear, caressing it with his words "Relax."

He really was a miracle worker. He placed a soft kiss on my temple that set my skin on fire.

I wanted him.

But we were busy.

"Even if I agree, I won't survive long enough to implement it, "Snow said tonelessly. "And then you'll just have to go through this whole ordeal again."

A tremor of confusion and uneasiness radiated around the room. I felt it in my gut, and the impact of his words hit me like a heavyweight boxer.

"You're dying." The matter of fact tone caught everyone of guard and they stared at me, willing me to say I was kidding.

"Well done Katniss," Snow said, "You really are more clever than we give you credit for."

"How long?" I asked.

"Two months." he said. "Bowel cancer, secondary brain cancer, the whole shebang. I even have covering my lungs."

_So that explains the blood-breath_, I thought, feeling empty inside.

"So all of this," Gale cried, "has been a waste of time?"

"Seems like it, "Snow couldn't keep the smile from his voice.

"So what do we do now?" Gale asked.

"You should prepare," Snow's face split into a grin. "They'll be here in a matter of minutes."

Ripples of confusion were nearly visible in the room, like heat waves on a monitor.

"Who?"

"You really didn't think you'd get away with kidnapping me and taking Peeta Mellark, did you?"

"How?" Dad asked, quickly glancing at me, fear in his eyes.

"Ask Mellark."

Every one of us turned to Peeta. The others turned toward him, stepping away from Snow and ignoring him. They all glared at Peeta, accusation stabbing at him like daggers. Peeta was shocked.

"What?" He had no idea what was happening.

"You've got a trace."

I grabbed Peeta's arm, but there was a small hole where the trace was. It was stupid of me not to check that he had one immediately, but it wasn't there.

"Joanna removed it," Peeta spat at Snow. "When they held us captive together for the first month. The left us alone and she broke free. She broke a window and dug it out with a shard. Then they killed her."

Poor Joanna.

"You really think we don't track Capitol property?" Snow tutted, clearly amused. "I thought you were smart Peeta."

Then it hit me. I looked down.

"Oh no."

"Ah, Katniss again," Snow smiled, "quick as a whip."

"Your leg," I said, pulling up his trouser and revealing his prosthetic. Peeta's face drained of colour, and a groan ran around the room.

Suddenly another voice sprang to our ears, from behind Snow, and we all whipped around.

"You seem happy, Snow?" Madge said, knife held against Snow's throat. "How about a smile?"

Snow's eyes were frantic. That he hadn't been expecting.

"This is for my family.

Madge jerked the knife across Snow's neck, blood gushing from the wound and the light left his eyes. The knife fell the ground and Snow's head hung limp on his shoulders.

He was dead.

"Madge?" Gale said, shocked.

Now he knew Madge wasn't.

"Oh god," she said, shaking. Resident Snow's blood coated her arm and the front of his white shirt was drowned in crimson.

"I killed him," She said softly, in denial.

"Madge?" Gale said again. "You're alive."

Gale tentatively stepped toward Madge, who was still trembling. She had killed him. Not in self-defence, but in fury.

She had killed President Snow.

She might have ended the Capitol.

Gale grabbed her by the shoulders, stared at her in amazement and laced a hand in her hair. A second later he pulled her lips to his and kissed her passionately.

She broke away from him. "What was that for?"

"You're alive," he said simply. "You're amazing."

Outside, there was a flurry of noise, in the not too far distance.

They were coming.


	22. Sing

"We need to get out of here," I said, pulling Peeta's arm with mine and ignoring the daggers burning though my thigh.

"It's too late," Haymitch said gruffly. "You'll never make it out of here alive."

"Ever the optimist, Haymitch," I snarled, "but I've had enough out of you. For once in your life, just shut up."

Haymitch started for me, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me.

"Listen, sweetheart, we're in this together. All of us."

"Yeah," I scoffed, throwing his arm away and staring at him in disgust, like he was rife with infection. I suppose that was apt, since Haymitch was like a disease to me; hate revolting, abhorrent and deadly.

I didn't think it was possible to loathe someone as much as I loathed him.

"What about Madge?" I sneered. It was a low blow. But the Games were over. We had to get down to cold hard fact. No pussyfooting around, just down to business.

Fear flickered in his eyes, and I knew I had hit my mark.

I was the master marksman after all.

Haymitch went flying back. I stared at Peeta, but he had not moved, even though his fist was poised for another punch; his knuckles bloody from their previous encounter with Haymitch's face.

My dad held Haymitch by the collar, angrier than I had ever seen him; fire burning in his eyes.

"_Never,_" he hissed, "touch my daughter again. Or I guarantee it will be the last thing you will ever do."

He let go of Haymitch's grubby collar and turned to me.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," I said, brushing off the encounter. "But we need to get out of here. There are two helicopters outside. We can get away."

"You can Katniss," Dad agreed. "But I need to stay here."

"What?" I cried, "Why?"

"I've been working towards his for years. I had to leave my family and everyone I ever cared about. It was the hardest thing I have ever done, and I loathed the people who made me leave you, but I did everything, for you. You, your mother, your sister. I left so you could break free from the Capitol's regime and we could demolish the Games forever."

"But you still left us," I said, backing towards the door. The crowd noise was getting louder, but we still had time to escape."

"I wanted you to come with me. But then the mine exploded, and the miners thought it was our only chance of escape. I tried to break free and grab you, but I woke up on an airship. Raymond, one of the other miners, had clocked me with a pickaxe before I could break away. I didn't know how to find district 12 again. But I thought about you every day."

"Fine, okay, I get it. Now is not the time for Goodbyes. We have to go."

"Katniss, I'm staying."

I stopped and stared at him. My father, the one who had let us believe he was dead. The one who left us for dead….

The one who thought me how to hunt.

""Try to come home," I said.

"I will."

"Really, really try." I urged, remembering the words Prim had spoken to me before I left for the Capitol almost two years ago.

Dad nodded and we all rushed out of the warehouse to the helicopters. Dad ran to Finnick and Cinna and Peeta and I ran to the nearest Helicopter.

I felt Peeta pause and then the force of his arms as he threw me to the ground.

_**Bang.**_

_**Bang. Bang. Bang. **_

"Peeta," I screamed, my voice breaking from emotion.

I scrambled towards him as he lay groaning and grunting on the tarmac, the front of his black shirt growing darker and darker with each passing moment.

I felt numb, hollow, as I watched tears stream down his eyes and colour drain from his face.

The two guards lay bleeding ten feet away, surrounded by a pool of blood, their guns swallowed by its red tributaries.

I screamed for help, and took Peeta's face in my hands. Gale ran over, a smoking gun in his hands, shocked expression on his face.

He had killed the guards.

"What happened?" I cried. I was wild, frantic, feral. I needed answers. I stripped off my jacket ripped open Peeta's shirt, exposing a small bleeding crater in the centre of his chest. He groaned again, the sound tearing away at my insides. I pressed my balled up jacket against the wound and screamed at my dad and Finnick and Cinna, begging them for help.

"The guard," Gale said, in complete shock. "He pulled a gun out. Peeta glanced over his shoulder and saw him aiming and threw himself in the way. That must be why they came with Haymitch. To get to you. Now Snow's dead, they decided to go for broke I guess. I shot them both before they could try again."

"Gale,"

"I killed someone," Gale said, utterly perturbed. His first kill. I hoped to spare him from the agony. Madge laced her fingers in his and leaned hr head against his shoulders.

"Me too," she whispered softly.

They were bonded. It was such a shame such a horrible, grotesque means had brought them together, but it was a necessity in these harrowing times.

Dad raced over. "What happened?"

"The guards shot him."

"Goddamnit!" he yelled. Before I knew it, he had picked Peeta up in his arms and was carrying him to the helicopter. He placed him in the hub. Madge gave me a hand to pull me up from the ground and I stumbled towards the machine and crawled inside.

"Can you drive?" dad asked.

"I don't think so," my voice was small and I grabbed Peeta's hand in mine and squeezed it with all my might. He could barely apply pressure back. His eyelids began to flutter and his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Peeta," I cried, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at me. He was losing a lot of blood. And fast. "Peeta, look at me." I shook him gently at first and then harder until his eyes fully focused on me.

"Hey, Kitty-Kat," he said, his lips pulling back into a tortured half-smile.

A lump formed in my throat and I kissed his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, his lips and began to circuit again.

"You're going to be okay," I said fiercely. Then I turned to my dad again. "I can't drive. My leg is messed up. What are we going to do?"

"I can drive," Gale offered, grabbing Madge's hand and helping her into the co-pilots seat.

"I can too, though not that well," she admitted.

"Great," Dad said. "Now get out of here."

He pulled a radio out of his jacket and talked briefly into it, before a small smile curled his lips.

"We have reinforcements. The Capitol may have sent 50 guards, but we have three hundred recruits. They'll be here any minute. Now go. Get back to District 13."

Gale fired up the engine and the roar was deafening. I scrambled toward the door and tugged on Dad's jacket before the helicopter began to levitate unsteadily off the ground.

He turned around and stared at me curiously, his hair blowing every which way from the helicopter's blades.

"Thanks…..Dad." I said, before we pulled away.

I hadn't once called him "Dad" to his face since our altercation in the airship in District 13. It was my way of showing that he was dead to me.

I just hoped that he survived so that maybe we could start building some bridges.

After all, he had just helped Peeta. I could never hate him for that.

His eyes lit up and the helicopter pulled away. We flew higher and higher. I pulled the door shut as best I could and hurried back to Peeta's side.

"Katniss," he coughed and blood seeped out of his mouth, spraying my face and his chin. I felt like I was on fire again. Like I was frantically looking for something to end the pain, to stop the burn, to stop the torment.

But it just wouldn't come.

I was burning alive.

But no one could see the flames.

I held my jacket against Peeta's chest firmly, blood seeping out beneath the material and soaking my fingers, staining them in warm crimson fluid.

"Katniss," he said again, his eyes pleading with me to come closer. I bent my head towards his and leaned my forehead to him. My tears fell onto his eyelids, and it was like he was crying my tears.

"You're going to be okay," I said firmly, trying to convince myself as much as I was him. "You'll be okay. You promised me you'd do anything for me? Do this, okay? Live. Because I don't think I'll be able to live without you… you hear me bread boy?"

Peeta chuckled, but pain flashed across his face. "You know, in those books you read as a kid, they make getting shot sound cool. But it's not. It's not cool at all. It's like burning metal slicing though my chest, hotter than hell. It's not cool, not cool at all."

"I wouldn't know," I said, "I never read books."

Peeta smiled. "No you don't. You don't read. You sing."

I saw the pleading in his eyes, and it felt like my insides were shutting done. Like I was shutting down piece by broken piece.

"Sing to me, Katniss," he whispered softly.

"No," I shook my head adamantly. "You're not going to die. I won't let you. I absolutely forbid it, and I usually get my way."

I crushed my lips against his and tasted metallic blood on my tongue. Fir the first time in my life, I didn't try to fight the tears, I let them fall free. I had no control over them, and I didn't care. This moment was heartbreaking, and I wanted to mourn it.

"Sing o me, Katniss," he said softly again, almost too quiet to hear. I closed my eyes and breathed, in out, in out, and nodded my consent.

I would do anything for Peeta.

"Just like when we were little. When I fell in love with you. Like I still do a little bit more each day."

"And everyday from now on." I said and softly brushed our lips together, as gentle as a butterfly's wing.

I knew what song I was going to sing, and it broke my heart to do it. But it was Peeta's favourite, and reminded me of him.

_Wish enough, Wise man'll tell you a lie_

_Windows broke, Torn up screens_

_Who'd have that that you'd dream_

_Of a single tragic scene_

_I just wanna sing a song with you_

_I wanna take it off of you_

_Cause Blue eyes,_

_You are all that I need_

_Cause Blue eyes,_

_You're the sweet to my mean_

_Fess it up dot on the palm of your hand_

_I can help you to stand_

_Saved it up for this dance_

_Tell me all the things you can do_

_I just wanna sing a song with you_

_I just wanna be the one that's true_

_Cause Blue eyes,_

_You're the secret I keep_

_Cause Blue eyes_

_All the lights on and you are alive_

_But you can't point the way to your heart_

_So sublime, when the stars are aligned_

_But you don't know_

_You don't know the greatness you are_

_Cause Blue eyes,_

_You are destiny's scene_

_Cause Blue eyes_

_I just wanna be the one_

_Cause Blue eyes,_

_You're the secret I keep_

_Cause Blue eyes,_

_I just wanna sing a song with you._

I broke down right then and there and laid myself against him, cradled in his weak arms. My voice was hoarse from emotion and I didn't thin I could utter another word through the tumult of tears choking me.

"Thank you, Katniss, My Kat. My Kitty-Kat."

Despite it all, I smiled. He was still Peeta. My Peeta.

He would be forever.

"Know why I like it?" He asked. I leaned against my elbows and stared at him. He was deathly pale and his eyes grew tired and lifeless.

"Peeta," my voice was strangled.

"Know why I like calling you Kitty-Kat?" he murmured again, his words beginning to slur.

From the window, I could hear rebel yells as the fighting began. Though I shouldn't have been able to hear over the noisy helicopter, I swear I heard the rebels chant.

"For Katniss.

For Peeta.

For Panem."

"Know why?" he asked again, and I shook my head. His eyes rolled back into his head and his eyelids shut. I cried and screamed, but saw his lips moving. I bent closer to them and felt his words caress my skin and chill my bones.

"Because, unlike me, cats have nine lives."

Last chapter up soon. Possibly Monday. The song is "Blue eyes" by Cary Brothers. Check it out on Youtube. It's great. Thank you all so much for sticking through with me, and I hope you enjoyed my story as much as I loved writing it. And if you cried, although it's not likely, take solace in the fact that I cried writing it.

Thanks again.


	23. Endings

It was the day of the funeral.

One of the many.

I stood on the balcony of the headquarters of District 13, watching the wisps of clouds in the sky, moving without moving an inch, since the world keeps on turning, even if you want it to stop and rewind. Life just goes on.

And there's no way to turn back the hands of time.

I pulled at the stretchy fabric of the dress my mother had made for me. It felt uncomfortable to wear something this tight since I was so used to loose fitting clothes, from both their bagginess and my emaciated frame.

But we were well fed now.

The Capitol's reign was finally over.

Of course, it had come with a price. The war and bloodshed had massacred both sides of the battle. We lost many good people.

Raymond.

Jay.

Yvette.

Jessica.

Finnick.

Haymitch.

Once we landed in district 13, we were told of the events that had unfolded. Even though we had escaped before the riots broke out, we still had a hell of a long way to travel, even if it was as the crow flies.

Gale took every short cut imaginable to get us home. The Helicopter almost ran out of gas from the journey, but we thankfully landed on the base nearly 13 hours later.

Unlucky for some. But Lucky for us.

My mother, Prim and some of the other wives and children ran out to greet us upon arrival and consoled and cared for us like only they knew how. The radio had called non stop for three days, while I remained in an endless haze of emptiness.

Finally, we received word.

We had overthrown the Peacekeepers.

We had won.

But it was at a cost.

Once everyone had arrived back at District 13 and their other homelands, we were informed of the brutality that had occurred.

We made a meal the night they arrived home, but no one had any semblance of an appetite. My father stood, bruised and with his arm in a sling, and a hush grew among the attendants.

"I would like to propose a toast." He said and there were murmurs of agreement around the room. This was the only right thing to do; to honour the one's we had lost.

First, there was Finnick.

Finnick Odair had fought hard and battled through, saving many lives along the way and making his way through the crowd. Until he found her.

Annie.

Annie Cresta had come with the District 4 recruits, willing to help. She had snuck on board and battled hard. Finnick had spotted her through the crowd and dashed to her aid.

Of course, his heroism had led to his death.

While he was distracted with protecting the girl he loved at all costs, another guard had taken advantage of his strain and shot him square between the eyes.

He was dead instantly.

Annie had killed the guard and fought bravely too, but it all became too much for her and she passed just like Finnick; to protect another.

She had saved Haymitch, who was fighting tooth and nail with a guard, who had sneaked his gun from his waistband and was prepared to kill. Annie had thrown herself at the guard and fought with the gun. The gun exploded in the guards face while another guard shot Annie simultaneously.

Haymitch Abernathy had given his life for another. He had given it for my Dad.

The fight had gone from the warehouse, past the town and towards the cliffs. Guards and rebels alike were thrown every which way in the tumult of terror and confusion. My dad had worked his way through the troops, providing ammunition and assistance to all who needed it. By the time he reached the cliffs, he was ambushed.

Others stopped to help him, but he was slowly backed into a corner and had no means of escape. One by one, the guards were defeated and another rebel was gunned down. At last it was only my father and one other guard.

My Dad was out of ammo.

"Lookie here," the guard had sneered, my dad described every feeling and emotion he had felt in that moment and the all consuming fear of never seeing us, his family, again.

The guard and my Dad had stood at the edge of the cliff. The guard slowly backing my father over the edge.

Dad didn't know where to look.

Then he saw Haymitch.

Haymitch slowly eased his way up to the guard, stealth as a cat, and mouthed one last message to my father, before he ran forward, grabbed the guard by the shoulders and pulled him toward the ledge. The guard grabbed an equal hold on Haymitch and the both went tumbling over the canyon.

Haymitch had used the cliffs to defy the Capitol.

Twice.

Today was his funeral. And I was going to pay my respects. After all, he had given me the chance to have something I hadn't dreamed about in years.

A family.

Arms wrapped around my waist and I automatically tensed, ready to flip the perpetrator.

Then soft lips kissed my neck and I softened in his arms and breathed in his sweet cinnamon scent.

"You okay?" Peeta asked, his arms tight around my waist and exactly where I wanted them to be.

"I'll live," I said. And for once in my life, I knew that there was no crippling sense of doubt behind my words.

I turned around in Peeta's arms and laid my head against his chest. His shirt was open and his hair was damp from his shower, tangled and messy and hanging in his blue eyes.

"Couldn't you have changed first?" I teased, "Or am I just so irresistible that you just had to be with me?"

"Definitely the latter," he smiled, kissing my lips softly and delicately, but making me feel all hot and bothered. It was a definite skill.

"I just came to see how you are," he said, stroking my hair gently with his right hand. "After everything."

"I'm not sure. Its hard to believe it's all over."

I never though this day would come. Of course I dreamed about it and thought endlessly about the means of achieving it, but I never thought about the aftermath.

We were free.

No longer subjected to a cruel regime, where our lives are constantly in peril and our children's lives after us.

I could have a family.

I'm just not sure if I want that.

All my life, I had focused on keeping myself alive, and gave up any thought of having a family. I would not torment any child to what I had suffered. I had been so adamant and strong willed that even now, where there was no harm to come to my offspring, I was still hesitant.

But honestly, I wouldn't even consider having kids yet. I'm still young. I have my whole life ahead of me.

Now that's a thought I could get used to.

I looked at Peeta again and my eyes automatically focused on the small whole in the centre of his chest. I knew that if I reached around I would find a similar one on his back.

Through and through. No arteries damaged, no internal bleeding, no shattered metal fragments.

And Peeta thinks I'm the one with nine lives.

I had kept him conscious for as long as I could on the ride home and grew more frantic as he began to slip away. He was losing a lot of blood and we were only half-way there.

"Help me," I'd cried. Madge hopped out of the co-pilots seat and the helicopter automatically jumped and grew unsteady. She was a much better driver than Gale. She stumbled to the parachute hold and searched around, then fell to her knees beside me and tore my hands away fro Peeta's chest,

"What are you doing?" I screamed.

"Saving his life," she said, while pulling open the sewing kit she had found and ripping out a length of string. She began to piece Peeta back together, poking her tongue out the corner of her mouth to aid her concentration. When she finished her quick patch up, she rolled Peeta over and checked his back and found another hole which she proceeded to fix.

Madge: the girl of many talents.

Her mother had taught her how to sew when she was a young girl. It turned out to be a very useful skill.

She'd pretty much saved Peeta's life. But he wasn't out of the woods yet.

When we finally arrived in District 13, Peeta was automatically carted off to the infirmary and my mother took over his care. She asked me for my arm, and I offered it immediately, still in a daze as Peeta slipped in and out of consciousness.

Then she drained my veins of blood.

As it turns out, Peeta and I have the same blood type. AB negative. Extremely rare.

My mother told me she knew because when Peeta was younger, he'd had a pretty serious illness and had to have his blood work taken, and she knew mine because both she and my father were AB negative also.

My blood now runs through Peeta's veins.

So we're pretty much bonded.

Although, we already were.

He had been unconscious for three days after we arrived back and I stayed by his bedside night and day, hour after hour just to watch the rise and fall of his chest, to make sure he was still with me. To make sure he was still alive.

Because I wouldn't, couldn't, function without him.

Of course, when Peeta woke up, he was visibly upset. He learned that his entire family had died and he began to mourn. He held a funeral for them once he was well enough and each day he placed flowers by their make-shift tombstone, as well as baking a fresh loaf in their name every day.

It was very Peeta, and I grew to love him even more in his time of sickness and mourning.

Now, Peeta stood before me, a lot healthier than before and all bruises gone without a trace. He was just his normal, beautiful self. And I couldn't ask for anything more.

"So where do we go from here?" he asked.

"I think we walk to the grave site and pay our respects to Haymitch…wow I never thought I'd hear myself say that, but he did help my father…and we have to be there for Madge."

Haymitch had known my father could lip read, so his last message had been passed to me and to Madge upon his arrival.

"Tell Katniss I'm sorry. Tell Madge I love her."

My father had been confused, but when he told me I understood immediately.

We were going to tell Madge this afternoon. She had a right to know who her family was. She had a right to know that they had all died heroically.

She should also know that _we_ would always be her family.

I shook my head to ward off the memories. "So, I thin we just go back to the base after the funeral."

"No," Peeta half smiled, hanging his head and shaking it slightly. "Where do _we_ go from here?"

"Oh," I responded intelligently, and Peeta smiled again. My chest tightened and my shoulders lightened to see that hint of a smile.

"I have a proposition."

_It's more than I have,_ I thought. "Shoot."

"Katniss, would you like to have dinner with me?"

I cocked an eyebrow and stared Peeta straight in the eye. "Peeta," I half-laughed. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"That'd be the gist of it, yeah." he grinned.

It was so normal. Sp everyday. Something that ordinary people do. They have dinner, talk, and see where things go. They don't fake pregnancies and marriages without doing the other stuff first.

This could be interesting.

I pulled his lips down to mine and kissed him. Eventually we both came up for air.

"Is that a yes then?" he laughed breathily, cupping my face in his hands. I turned m head slightly and softly kissed the palm of his hand and stared deep into those blue, blue eyes.

"I'm hungry," I said.

"For me or for food?" he teased, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and mimicking our conversation in the Capitol.

"Oh definitely food." I teased, poking him in his newly healed ribs.

"Ouch," he said in his best fake-hurt voice.

"So how about that dinner?" I asked.

"I'll pick you up at eight." he smiled, and swiftly captured another kiss, before departing and gathering his shirt in his hands.

I knew that shirtless thing was for my benefit.

The day had been long and harrowing. Gale was with Madge as she absorbed the fact that Haymitch had been her father, and he had died as well. She was in a daze and Gale just remained silent and held her hand, letting her grieve without any interference.

It was exactly what she needed.

I left them when I realised I could offer no more help and offered to come by again tomorrow. Madge inclined her tear stained face and gave me a simpering smile before she fell into Gale's chest and let him hold her once more.

There was a knock on the door at exactly eight O' Clock. It was odd. My stomach was twisting in and out and felt like it was fluttering. I was nervous.

Which was ridiculous, and I scolded myself, but the feeling wouldn't go away. After consulting with Cinna, who had silently offered fashion advice, I decided on a muted orange dress and left my hair cascading in ringlets over my shoulders, like my mother had shown me. She and Cinna then left me to my own accord while they devised a plan to heal his mutilated tongue. They were coming on in leaps and bounds, but there was still a lot of work to be done before I would hear his voice and advice again.

I welcomed the day.

I pulled the door open and Peeta stood there in a royal blue button-down shirt and a pair of blue jeans. The blue in the shirt really brought out his eyes and I was startled. He blinked several times before a goofy smile took over his face.

"Wow," he said. "You scrub up well."

"You approve?" I smiled, pulling the door closed behind me.

"I always approve. You're breathtaking, Katniss. You could wear nothing at all and I'd…Hey," he grinned, "Now that's an idea."

I punched him, hard, in the arm, and this time he didn't fake the wince. "Watch it Peeta."

"Sorry," he said, puling his best puppy dog pout as we strolled down the hill.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Well," he said, grabbing my hand with his and interlacing the fingers, "That's for me to know, and you to dot dot dot. "

I rolled my eyes but followed him. The sky was dark and the only light we were offered was that of the moon and stars. I glanced up and caught sight of a shooting star cutting across the night's sky, engulfing it in a flow of flames before disappearing without a trace.

People wish on shooting stars.

I remembered that wish I made in the airship, before we went to rescue Peeta. How I would give anything to bring him home again and to hold him, to be with him wholeheartedly…

We began to slow and up ahead I saw a small table, adorned with candles, a table cloth and a picnic basket.

"Peeta," I said, audibly shocked. It was so perfect and romantic.

So very Peeta.

We reached the table and he grabbed a flower from it. A single yellow rose.

"For you." he smiled sheepishly, obviously a little embarrassed. His hand hadn't yet let go of mine and his palm grew sweaty. I tried to hide my smile.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, pulling me closer to him and I relished the closeness. I grinned and kissed him softly, enjoying his reaction before answering him honestly.

"That wishes really do come true."


	24. Author's note

Well, that's it folks. It's all over. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.

And for those of you who thought I would kill Peeta… Tut tut. Do you honestly have no faith in me? Keeta forever folks.

Anyway, I'm so happy to have finished this, and just in time for Mockingjay too. Huzzah. Let's see if I got anything right.

Please, let me know what you thought of the story as a whole, and I love getting reviews, sp please do. :D

Thanks again folks.

:D

Love you guys.


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